Tribunal, the fall of Almalexia
by Kojiokida2
Summary: The city of Mournhold, ancient capital of Morrowind. An assaination attempt leads a high elven rouge on an adventure that will eventually bring him face to face with a goddess in battle. (Partly inspired by Merlacs story-chap 13 up
1. Beginings

(I do not own morrowind or any of the related material.)

This story was partly inspired by Merlacs tale.

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As I sit here, with my quill just above the page, leaking a drop of ink onto the paper the first thing that at once comes to mind how long it's actually been and how I'm going to need a lot more paper to write it all down.

I feel like some old adventurer at the back of some dingy tavern, telling his old stories to whomever passes by, but finds himself largely ignored. The prospect horrifies me, but still I find myself disliking the prospect of my adventures going unrecorded even less. 

And so I take up the quill and start writing. I ask the reader to be patient with me as the delicate business of scribing is not one of my talents and so please do forgive me if mistakes are noted or clumsily corrected. Perhaps I may improve my form as I write.

Which story to tell? Ah yes, the very adventure that lead to me exploring Tamerial in the first place. The adventure in the city of Mournhold, where I faced one of the Tribunal gods in battle. If the reader of this story happens to be a temple going Dumner then I suggest that you discontinue reading.

Let me start from the beginning. The adventure began, I suppose, on the Imperial distinct of Vvardenfell, in the fort like town of Ebonheart on the south west coast. Vvardenfell was the island mainland in the region known as Morrowind, expanding slightly to the mainland. This is the native land of the Dumner, or Dark Elves as their known in Imperial society. 

After competing in a swordsmanship tournament in Vivec, I was on my way to a small tavern there called the Six fishes to indulge myself in my favourite pass time, drinking Flin and Greef. 

Sorry, how rude of my not to introduce myself. I am Dai-Sona, a high Elf of no rank or consequence. I believe the letter that came with my release from the Imperial cities prison. I never did see much of Cyrodiil, expect the inside of a prison dungeon that is. What may I do for a living you ask? Various things for various Guilds now and then, for money of course but most of my time is devoted to treasure hunting. I sit around in bars for a while and wait for rumours of riches of float around, then go off and see if they're true. I'm a bit of a rouge, I'm forced to admit. I've stolen before, when it suits me. Murdered a few people too, but it doesn't play too much on my conscience. Most of the killing was done in self defence, but I the stress _(most of) _part. 

I like to think myself a handsome sort for my race, tall erect ears, sharp protruding chin, Dark blue eyes set into my pale yellow face. My hair, pale cream and long, tied back into a bun behind my head by a red band. I was dressed at the time, pretty much as always in my favourite type of armour, with which I have the most skill, Glass armour. I got this particular set by….liberating it….from the Hlaalu vaults. Those brain-dead Ordinators still don't know it was me! 

An Imperial guard dressed in complete Legionary armour nods to me respectfully as I enter the town across the eastern bridge. I have, what I like to believe, good standing in the East Empire Trading company and so it affords my some degree of respect amongst Imperials and a greater degree of hated amongst some organisations such as the Commona Tong.

Every time I see that Dragon statue that stands in the middle of the square just in front of the docks, I have to say to myself, what a complete waste of ebony. I can tell it's made of the stuff from the colour, can't they use something a little less priceless? The statue itself got to be worth as much as ten Ebony blades if not more. 

The Six Fishes lay on the other side of a long stone bridge that stretched across a large drop to the sea below. Imperials believed that building their forts on, in or around Mountains or cliffs gave their forts from protection. The docks at the lowest point are the busiest place, people moving that way and that, helping to load and remove crates and barrels from the ships. Several mercenaries from the Fighter's Guild are standing around the statue. Probably hired to keep an eye on the events, definitely not by the Imperials though. They were too proud for it. Probably some jumpy East Empire clerk who's frightened he's going to miss out on his promotion due to theft. 

I cross the bridge, humming the tune to a rather catchy song I heard someone singing in or around the arena. Probably a native Dumner song. The six fishes is a modest little place, like most Imperial taverns made from wood with a thatch roof. A wooden sign hanging outside the door depicting several large slaughter fish on each side. A rather clumsy attempt at painting on the Publicans part.

"N'wah Swit." Someone yelled, thumping a table as I pushed my way inside. I looked in that direction for the moment, watching a couple sitting at a table. It was Dumner having a friendly drink with a Nord women, exceptional rare sighting seeing as how the two races despised each other sat at the one nearest to her. "That bloated Imperial thinks he's so big!"

"Just between you and me, that Selvus Gravius isn't as high above us as he likes us to believe," The Dark elf asked, before pausing to swig down the contents of his personal Dwemer tankard. The Nord nodded. "Well, I was on a Job from Sugar-Lips Habasi the other day, right, I was under an invisibility spell while I sneaking away and as I was passing the census office, I heard voices coming from around the back. Well, being the curious fool I am, I went to have a look. And guess what I saw…" The Nord shrugged, brushing some blond hair out of her face. "Gravius was talking with this Alter woman, hadn't seen her face before, guess she was from Balmora or something. Anyway, after a moment, they started kissing." The Nord leant forward, eyed wide in surprise.

"Strewth, the mans married!"

"Fifty Septims?" A dark elf female said with exasperation, nearly knocking the Nord bartender over as she swung her arm across in a vain attempt of grab him. I sat down on the stoal at the other end of the bar and watched from out of the corner of my eye. She was sitting a few stools away, arguing passionately with the bartender. "For quality Restore Fatigue potions like these? I spent a week brewing these, the bottom bartering price is a **hundred **and fifty." The Nord did not look too impressed.

"No one has trusted your concoctions ever since one turned that poor Wood Elf from Seyda Neen's hair blue." He stared angrily, jabbing a finger in her direction.

"That was never proved and I'll thank you for not spreading false accusations!"

I must ask the reader to be slightly lenient with me as I honestly can't remember what happened after I ordered the first drink, but I presume I passionately entered into my favourite pass time. I presume so since I remember having a distinct alcohol like smell about me for several days afterward. Anyway, that's not important.

Oh, before I forget, some crucial element. My pet…. Now that may not seem important but it will be of some relevance to the story I've telling. His name, appropriately, is Rat. No prizes for guessing what he is. People, mostly Dumner I've noticed, can't stand the little fellow. Sure he may have red demonic eyes and sharp fangs, but there's never been a more tamer animal in Tamerial. I treated him for any diseases with a potent spell myself and still people detest him. 

Still, anyway…. It was probably late at night when I roused from my slumber in a purchased room upstairs. Rat was asleep under the bed itself, his scaly tail hanging out. The thick smell of Skooma hung in the air, which I know could not have been from me as I never touch the stuff, not even when I'm completely legless. I prefer Flin as it was the only alcohol that didn't leave you with a pounding headache afterward. It doses however leave you feeling very groggy if you actively engage in drinking large amounts of it. 

I thank whatever deity gave men and mer the need to relieve themselves, for if I had not roused with a sudden urge to go I would never have witnessed the strange figure standing in the open doorway, wearing strange black armour the likes of which I'd never seen before, his face hidden by a black mask. Grasped in his right hand was a very familiar weapon, a Deadric tanto. 

An assassin! 

When he saw me looking at him, he cursed and drove toward me, his weapon held high. Reacting on instinct, I tore the Dai-katana from the table beside my bed and defended myself from the blow, metal scrapping against metal with a loud clash. My would be assassin however was far too slow to contour attack, for whoever his employer was, had failed to mention my distinct famous speed. That, and I was by far the better swordsman. He put up a better fight than expected, but finally he lay dead on the corridor outside my room. Slashed across the arms and chest. By now all the commotion had roused the guards down stairs who came tearing up the stairs on the left hand side with their broadswords drawn. A Bosmer in the room next to me peeped his head out to see what all the fuss was about, a night capo adorning his head.

"What's going on here?" One of the taller guards demanded, his chin unshaven and skin quite pale for an imperial. I didn't answer, too busy catching my breath, cleaning by blade of blood before sheathing it. Rat was still asleep. He was a good companion, but lazy as hell. Not even the charge of a wild Guar could wake him up. 

I paused to examine the body while the guards chattered amongst themselves, finally clued in to what was happening. I wasn't exactly sure what I was looking for, something to identify my assailant in some way. So first I removed his mask, he was a Dumner, probably younger than myself. His armour was very strange, complete black and soft to the touch, almost like skin. Finally, I found something that remotely resembled a clue. In his left hand side pocket was a dart, made from the purest ebony, yet was engraved with strange runes the nature of which I did not fully understand.

"You are the dead man!" The Bosmer hissed quietly, staring in horror at the dart I now held. I turned to look at him. "You have survived an attack by the Dark Brotherhood, they'll be coming for you again and soon." A hushed whisper went up around the guards. Dark Brotherhood? I had heard of them. An assassins guild, very much like the Morag Tong in intention but very different in method. Unsanctioned by the empire. The armour I now noticed was well suited for assassins. In semi darkness, it would make it's wearer nearly invisible. I knew not why I had been marked for death by this group, for as far as I knew I had no distinctive enemies. Well, there were several people I have stolen from in the past and many lady friends who would just love to see me six feat under. But none of them would go the this kind of trouble.

"I think you should have a word with the captain about this…." One of the guards managed, examining the body himself. I looked up, trying to manage a superior stance in my night robe. Apelles Matius, their current captain was currently on duty and so didn't mind being bothered in the middle of his shift. In fact, he was rather grateful. It distracted him from the fatigue the night watch created. I went to see him sometime after I took the opportunity to relieve myself.

"Dark Brotherhood?" He said absently, looking over the Ebony dart. "Yeah I know of them." Apparently this new captain had just arrived from Cyrodiil. He was an Imperial, dressed in the new Adamantium armour that was being introduced into the Legions. It was silver in colour much like steal armour only it did not have the same groves in it.He whistled loudly, shaking his head. "Wouldn't like to be you my friend." He added, handing the dart back to me. I had found the captain on the fort wall near the Hawkmoth legion towers, overlooking the western inner sea. The moon was high in the sky, partly obscured by some storm clouds beginning to gather, the fading moonlight making the captains armour gleam. Rat was still half asleep, resting on my shoulder with his tail woven in and around the large chucks of glass in my armour. I was taking no chances in case the Brotherhood had a back up assailant waiting to ambush me from the shadows. If they did, he would have to fight me at my best. "We can't really protect you if that's what you're come here to ask." The statement felt like an insult, but not because he was refusing to shield me. I had no intention of hiding from whoever wanted me dead.

"Look, I just want any information of the group you have." I stated angrily, crossing my arms, the armour clanking against itself. The Imperial shook his head.

"Now Altmer, if we knew anything useful about this group they'd be shut down in a heart beat. Their not a properly sanctioned guild and outlaws as far at the Empire's concerned." I groaned. This guy was turning out to be no help at all. "You might as well make your own inquiries." 

"Any idea where I can start?" I asked him, leaning back against the battlements. I might as well, if the Imperials weren't going to help me. 

"Well, I suppose I really shouldn't be telling you this but you're the first person to survive an attack by the Brotherhood and so you've impressed me. There's a rumour of a Dark brotherhood base in the city of Mournhold." Mournhold is a city on the mainland Tamerial, known as the capital of Morrowind since it was within the Province borders. I had heard about it but never had much opportunity or need to visit. "Tell you what." Apelles declared, smacking a fist into his palm as an idea hit him. "I was supposed to send some Imperial soldiers as the Royal place and region Imperial depo can't handle it themselves, but the Imperial Dragon has a good number away dealing with some Rouge Ashlander rebels." He reached into his armour and withdrew a large leather purse, tossing it toward me I caught in my left hand and brought it up toward my face, inspecting the contents. There must have been a good ten thousand septims there. Three times what I won at the tournament. I ran my fingers quickly through it all. "You go and deal with the group as an Imperial Legion hired hand and you may be able to find out something about whoever wants you knocked off." Quite frankly I wanted to leap into the air and yell out load. This is more money then I could ever hope to make in a year and so instead I pocketed the money with a calm demeanour.

"Fine, whatever works out for me." Getting to Mournhold turned out to be a bigger problem then I had anticipated. Ships were not allowed to dock on the mainland as a quarantine had been put in place to deal with the local plague, called Blight. Thank you very much Dagoth Ur! I kept asking around the docks, but it seemed my efforts were futile. I was anxious to get out of Vvardenfell to throw my trackers off for maybe a week or too. It was dawn before the exhaustion from being up half the night, and the long term after affects of Flin dragged me down to the stone ring surrounding the Dragon statue. 

By now the Captains shift had ended and I'd been unsuccessful in locating him again to ask for more information. I pull my green glass helm to soak air to ponder my situation more. I had to find someway to reach Mournhold. Usually, when someone offers me to do something for money I just take their money and disappear but one can not con the Imperial legions and expect to get away with it. The docks were empty now, the brief five minutes of silence before the new shift came out. 

"Dai-Sona!" A voice, which I am reluctant to admit I knew snapped at me. I looked up to see a very angry Dumner female standing in front of me. Dressed in ordinary netch armour that flattered her figure. I hissed loudly as she angrily drew a slap across my face. "That…" She snarled, grabbing me by the shoulders and forcefully pulling me to my feet. "Was for leaving me to get married to that Telvanni madman!" I pushed her off. "Do you know what I had to do get away from that perverted freak?" 

"Now Amila, I know your upset but I swear we were coming back for you." Ah yes, Amila one of my past lady friends. Occasionally my partner in crime. A high ranking member of the thieves guild. A beautiful woman with shapely curved and long raven black hair. Her eyes were blood red like all of her race, but she also had a distinct golden ring to them. 

"Come back for me?" She repeat, shaking with rage. "Come back for me? I tracked down Balthazar and he said that you had absolutely no intention of ever returning to Sadrith Mora!"

"Look." I added angrily before she could get another word in. "I really don't have time to talk!" Before I knew what was going, she drew a short blade from her armour, glaring at me with her face burning with rage. Amila always was a hot-headed one. Rat squeaked loudly, recognizing the hostile situation and vanished from my shoulder, retreating to the relative safety of the statue behind me, nestling in the crevices of the Dragons wings. I quickly drew my Dai-Katana and defended myself. Instinct urged me to fight back but I knew Amila, she was boiled up and why shouldn't she be? If I were her, I'd have done the same thing. She kept smashing away and just defended myself. 

After a few minutes, she tired out and retreated backwards a few steps to catch her breath. She tried once more to launch another offensive but found herself to tired so she groaned loudly and sat down on the cold stone ground of the docks. We used to do this all the time so I knew what to expect. She could never stay angry at me for long, provided she vented her rage intensely for a moment or two.

"Are you done?" I asked casually, sheathing my blade.

"Bastard…" I sat down beside her and as I expected, she didn't raise a finger to try and silt my throat. "Sometimes I just wish you'd fall in love with some pretty Altmer woman who'd take you to Summerset Isle forever, leaving me with a Dai-Sona free Vvardenfell." I just chucked before replying.

"Actually, I'm glad you're here. You can help me with a small problem." She had connections, presumable she could help me with my little errand. She stared at me like I'd just asked her to go fornicate with an Orc. 

"Help you? How can I possibly trust you ever again?" I let her rant on about betrayal for another five minutes. Washed over me as usual. In the end she saw that I wasn't listening to a single word and finally gave up. "Oh to hell with you, I'm going to Mournhold and leaving you to rot here." She said standing up. That certainly got my attention. 

"Now, that's what you can help me with…" I added, pulling myself to my feet. Rat scurried down from his statue and back onto my shoulder. "You know a way to the city then please share." I added, gesturing toward the boats behind me. "These fools tell me no ships can sail to the mainland." She groaned, smacking her forehead. 

"Oh no you don't!" She snapped. "I'm leaving partly to get away from you and I have no intention of letting you follow me."

"Oh come on, for old times sake?" Her frown deepened.

"_Old times sake_, is what makes me want to drive a dagger through your chest." As usual, my charismatic charm, enabled me to get her talking. Speech craft, the gift of the tongue it's sometimes called is a powerful thing if used properly. Her disposition of me however in incredibly low and so it took some time to raise it enough to retrieve the information I wanted. "I can't believe you actually tried the docks." She laughed at me, which was refreshing as she was usually screaming at me. "Any idiot knows you can only travel to Mournhold by magic." She lead me to the Grand council chambers. Another part of the castle fort joined to the rest of the town by a long stone bridge with a single Templer knight standing guard on it. Duke Vedam Dren, the official Imperial representative on Vvardenfell worked here. It felt rather uncomfortable to stand there, reeking of the stench of authority. A strange sensation for the rebellious sort such as myself.

"I know why I'm going." She said to me, looking back over her shoulder. "But I can't for the life of me think why you'd ever need to go there?"

"Now that's my business." I said. I didn't not want it spread around that the Dark Brotherhood had marked me for death. That could cause endless amounts of problems. 

"Whatever…" She approached a Breton woman and left me to look around. Nice place. Rather too luxurious for my taste but nice just the same. It was a shame the East Empire Company couldn't afford wealth like this, having to make so with the smaller rooms in the Imperial forts and towns. "Asciene Rane?" She asked her. The Breton was currently looking over some scrolls she was carrying before she looked up.

"Yes? Oh you and your husband must be requesting transportation to Mournhold." I pretended naturally I didn't here that. Almia on the other hand was far from it. I confess, I do rather miss the heated arguments with her. 

Transportation, magically speaking, leaves you with a disorienting sense of displacement for about five minutes. So I finally intervened and managed to get the rather busy mage, who seemed like she had other things to be doing to transport the both of us. Once the spell was complete, someone told me to sit down on a bench until my senses returned. The voice wad distinctly Argonian by I was so giddy at the time I hadn't noticed. Rat, for some reason I have still yet to discover, was immune to the whole affects and so while I recovered, scurried off to get his bearings in whatever surroundings he found himself in.

Not very surprisingly, Amila was gone by the time I recovered. I hadn't really expected her to stick around for my sake and I hadn't the need for her right now anyway. I found myself in the reception area of the Royal place in the city of Mournhold. At first I wasn't too impressed. The inside of this supposed palace looked like the inside of another Imperial building, although the banners on the wall were marked with Tribunals symbol. A long corridor lead off to my right, lit by candles on long iron shafts. A large set of wooden arched doors on the far wall. Large pots holding beautiful flowers and various plant lift stood rows around the room. Rat's tail was sticking out from between the various plants, squeaking occasionally. I was presently sitting on a bench, waiting for the pins and needles in my legs to go away. I had never liked magical travel, it was just so…strange. 

An Argonian in a blue robe was standing around, muttering to himself as he studied from various enchanted scrolls. Mages….in my experience they seemed to be always studying. A man came in from the corridor, striding toward me. He was obviously as guard but the armour wasn't familiar with me. Completely red and segmented like steal. The helm was close, with a simple silt down the front for the eyes. A long steal claymore was strapped to his side. I wasn't aware of it at the time, but he was one of the royal guards of the current king. 

"Welcome to Mournhold, City of Light and Magic." He announced proudly. "I'll have to take your name and ask your business in the city before you're allowed out." I looked up at him with an annoyed frown on my face. "Sorry, we have to keep a close track of visitors from Vvardenfell. You know, the Blight and all that."

"Dai-San, High Elf, Agent of the East Empire Company. I'm here as an Imperial hired hand." He answered each of his questions and he more or less seemed happy with them. "Oh, you didn't happen to see a Dumner woman come through a minute ago did you?" I asked quickly before he was about to stride off.

"Oh yes." He replied. "You just missed her. Off toward Godsreach I believe. Well, if you excuse me I have work to do." Mournhold was far more south than Vvardenfell and so I was overcome buy the hot and humid air as I stepped out into the Palace courtyard. The sky was clear above me, the sun beating down like an unforgiving Torch. Rat wisely hoped off my Glass armour and into my shadow. The courtyard was a large, regular shaped area with more royal guards standing around talking to each other. Several imperials, most likely members of the House Hlaalu were on the far side talking and arguing loudly over the prize of a crate of Restore Health Potions. Two large iron gates stood at each end, bolted from the inside. Each one delicately and beautifully engraved. I had barely seen the city and already I was impressed. 

"Nice place isn't it, but not like Summerset Isle I'm willing to wager." Stated a voice. I looked to my right, standing there was another imperial but he didn't seem to be of the legions, even though he was dressed in chain mail armour. He was rather short for an imperial, even by myself noticed, and high elves are use to being taller than other races. He had a steal tower shield strapped to his left arm, with a sabre tucked into a sheath on his right hand side.

Like all Imperials, he was light skinned, with a short crop of hair. Chestnut brown and a long black quiff. His chin was unshaven, the beginnings of a beard becoming very plain on his checks.

"I've never seen Summerset Isle." I admitted, taking of my glass helm and letting my hair down, removing the red ribbon. Now this may seem lightly feminine of me, but one must understand that High elves, male and female, seem to enjoy long hair. The Imperial chuckled to himself.

"Calvus Horatius…" He introduced himself, shaking my hand. "Mercenary for hire."

"Mercenary?"

"Oh everyone's in need of a helping hand in fighting these days The tribunal temple for example hired me not too long ago to help them clear out a nasty pit of necromancers in the ruins of old Mournhold." He looked me over. "Now you my friend look like you could use a helping hand." I decided to ignore his criticism. Even if my green, emerald like armour did not impress him he had not seen _ME_ in battle yet. Still, someone to watch my back might prove useful, someone who didn't hate my guts like Amila.

"Certainly could use a helping hand in my ventures." I admitted, studying him more closely. His armour and weapon were none to impressive, but like most imperials he had potential. His lifestyle had given him quite the muscular build. "What's your fee." 

"Well normally I charge 500 septims for a 30 days hire but since I'm in a good mood today I'll do it for a half price." I didn't know it at the time but I had just purchased the services of one of my now oldest friends. He and I have been through many adventures over the years, journeying the empire far and wide with others. But I'm getting ahead of myself for now at least. Money exchanged hands, but I careful not to let him catch sight of exactly how much gold I had on me. 

"Ok then. What's first?" He asked, rubbing his hands together after he deposited his 250 septims into his chest pocket, inside his armour. 

"Well first." I began. "You can show me around Mournhold, then we're going to get some better armour."

(How do you like Gets better…reviews please!!)


	2. The clash between the Dark Brotherhood

(I do not own Morrowind or the Tribunal and Blood moon expansions. I do own the fic)

Chapter 2

Mournhold was more visually impressive than I has first expected. Calvus lead me out the southern gate from the courtyard when they opened the gates as more and more people from Vvardenfel began arriving. He explained to me that the city was divided into four, equal sections. First was the northern most part, which housed the giant white temple of Lady Almalexia, healing mother of the Tribunal. The eastern part of the city was the great Bazaar, a giant market place for merchants and entertainers. It would always be crowed, he told me, but he didn't prepare me for exactly how many people would be there, but I'll come to that later. To the west was the Godsreach, a section filled with large houses and manors belonging to the nobility of the temple and the great houses. 

Directly at the centre of the city was the royal palace, housing the current king of Morrowind, Hlaalu Helseth. Apparently this king wasn't popular, as many believed he came to the throne through dishonest ways. But then most kings are like that. But nothing Calvus could say would have prepared me how what I saw when I stepped foot in the southern section of the city, the great botanical gardens of the Plaza Brindisi Borom. I had never seen anything like it, a luscious paradise filled with the strange and beautiful plants and flowers I had seen earlier in the royal palace courtyard.

"The Dumner Goddess dose indeed like her flowers." The mercenary said with a faint grin. Giant green houses stood towering in every direction, each one with green tinted windows, standing like emerald giant amongst the trees and thick clumps of grass. Each green house formed a circle, large bridges of glass and interwoven steal running from each construct to the next, some encased in veins. Directly the centre of this circle was a large platform surrounded by a thick moat of clear what that ran out in tributaries to other parts of the Plaza. Standing upon the platform was a statue and as a drew nearer, passing under a glass bridge that stretched between two of the green houses I was able to make it out more clearly. It was a statue of two people in battle. Well, not really people, but rather two gods. One was Almalexia herself and the other was the evil Deadra known as Mehrunes Dagon. It depicted the moment of the goddess' triumph as she screwed the four armed demon on a large spear. The statue was made of marble, painstakingly sculptured and looked very new. This impressed me far more than that Dragon in Ebonheart had. 

More royal guards were patrolling the area, along with some other type of guards I did not recognise. Their armour appeared to be very much Indorial style, but silver where theirs was golden, with various other differences. "High Ordinators." Calvus explained. "Almelexia's personal police." Like their brethren in Vivec, they looked down their noses at use as we past. It felt very much they were the same Ordinators I was used to, simply dressed in different armour. As we ventured further into the gardeners, we passed through a large glass door which was hot to the touch and into one of the green houses. I thought the outside temperature was uncomfortably hot, inside here it was roasting. Rat seemed the most bothered by the heat, used to the mild and cold air of Vvardenfel. He followed closely behind us, hiding in our shadows with his tail between his legs. Creepers, vines and other forms of clinging plant life ran up the walls, grasping at the shafts of light that same pouring in from above. A lot of Argonians, who were naturally suited to this kind of heat were tending to the many plants that were lined up in rows. They weren't slaves, I noticed, as none of them had those silver bracers of their arms. Bosmer were here in their numbers too. I didn't know how they could survive the heat, it was near overpowering. A humid moisture seemed to hang in the air also, one I hadn't noticed before. I paused to breath it in. It was refreshing. "The great Bazaar is this way." Calvus stated, pointing over to a large door in the side of a large marble wall that stretched up into the sky just outside the rear entrance to the green house. Two royal guards were standing on either side of it, looking they were boiling inside their armour themselves. Regularly people could be seen coming out, very few I noticed actually going in. 

"There's a armoury there?" I asked. The mercenary nodded in response.

"Yup, one of the best in Mournhold." He paused briefly. "You're the first one to offer to outfit me with better equipment, most people say I have to equip myself using the money from my fee but I need that to live off." He slapped me on the back with a large grin. "You're a stand up guy and I like you, for that you have my services for another ten days on-top of our original thirty, free of charge." I was beginning to like this little imperial already. 

The great Bazaar couldn't have been more different from the Plaza. It was almost as if I'd stepped from one world into another. From large towers of glass admits a carefully maintained jungle, to streets in-between houses made, entire it seemed of marble and slate. The evidence of painstaking construction was everywhere, even the ground on which I stood was engraved. The great Bazaar was indeed crowed. More so than I'd expected at first. It was all so new it overwhelmed me at first. I'd travelled Vvardenfel from shoreline to shoreline and never had the though of exploring further occurred to me. I suppose I owe the dark Brotherhood for that, forcing me to explore the land further, opening new adventures in strange lands up to me.

We forced our way through the crowds, a loud rumble of conversation floating over our heads. There were stalls on nearly every corner, merchants shouting out to the crowds, holding their goods up for all to see. Large trees stood here and there, jutting out of spaces between the paving stones on the ground, their huge leaves casting shade over the people. Suddenly, I found myself in the main square. This place was kept clear for entertainers, such as acrobats and jugglers. There was also a large stage set directly in the centre, were some Dumner in rather elaborate costumes were performing for a reasonable sized crowd. Calvus lead me past them to the other side of the square, there I found an insignificant row of buildings almost hidden between two large columns of marble, each with a statue of the goddess on the top. There were three in all. Mournhold Bookseller, Mournhold Mage's emporium and the Red Guard rumble armoury. Rather modest looking compared to the rest of the Bazaar. 

"What's good for the empire is good for business citizen." The Red Guard female said cheerfully as we stepped in, after finishing serving another customer, leaving the septims he'd paid lying on the contour. "What can I do for you?" The inside of her shop was like any other armourer. Everywhere, on shelves and piles up on the contour itself were different types of armour and weapons, ranging from ordinary chitin to Imperial steel. Then I spotted it, something that would suit this little Imperial so much more than that pathetic little chain mail chest plate. 

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Nordic mail. A finer, more delicate version of the Imperial chain armour. It Didn't weigh as much, and offered it's wear more protection. Apart from the helm, which they didn't seem to have in Calvu's size, he now stood before me dressed in armour more fitting. Nordic mail armour had arranged armour plating on the shoulder, chest and thighs. All in-between were tight chain links. I did offer to get him a better weapon, but he declined, stated that she and Matilda would never be parted. I presume he was talking about his sword. 

"Very nice…" Calvus said approvingly, looking himself, testing the flexibility of it by stretching his arms. "Would never have been able to afford something like this myself. I might get more business if people see me dressed in this stuff." He slapped me on the back when I wasn't expecting it, nearly knocking me over. "Like I said before, you're a stand up guy!" 

"Hold off the praise." I was quick to add. "You haven't heard the job I require of you." He didn't seem too concerned when I mentioned the Dark Brotherhood, which surprised me at first.

"Dark brotherhood? Pretty nasty people I'll grant you, but you've nothing to fear with me here." Typical Imperial masculinity. We found an outdoor bar on top of one of the buildings, and to Calvus' delight they sold Nordic mead. Personally I can't stand the stuff, far too sweet. So we sat and drank, myself thinking about how to go about my task. Rat hopped onto the table and began gently lapping at a tankard full of Flin I'd left undefended. What did I really know about the Dark Brotherhood? Nothing, that's what. Absolutely nothing. I had come here seeking answers but with little knowledge in which direction to go. I knocked rat away from my drink and went to sip it myself

"and they won't do a think about them." Someone behind me began arguing softly, obviously trying to keep their voice low but my high elven hearing picked it up just the same "Dark Brotherhood scum right beneath our feet and the Legions won't lift a finger." I paused, the rim of my cup half way to my mouth. I turned my head to watch them, a Nord and a Red guard at another table. The Red guard was in ebony armour, with a tower shield placed at his feet. The Nord was an elderly male with bunched white snowy hair. A small battle axe was tied to his belt by a string.

"Come on now." The Redguard replied cheerfully. "That's just a rumour and the Empire can't act on rumours." He signalled to the bar for another round with his left hand.

"Rumour nothing!" The Nord snarled, before downing an entire tankard of Mead. "The Dark Brotherhood are in the sewers I tell you, I've seen them." The Redguard quickly rose and place his hand across the Nord's mouth. 

"Schhh! You never know who's listening!" I managed a superior smirk. I rose from the table. Cavlus was too busy drinking to notice me going.

"Excuse me." He inquired, putting a hand on the Nord's shoulder while his Red guard friend took the drinks from the bartender. He turned to face me. "May I have a word with you sirah?"

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During nightfall, the strange and errie hours of twilight, the Bazaar seemed to empty of it's populace. The transformation from busy market to empty streets seemed almost scary. I chose this time to move as I did not want to arose suspicion. What the Nord had to say, for a price I discovered, was rather interesting.

But before I go into what he said, I must reflex for a moment, and describe how the power was shared or rather fought over in the City. There were three basic powers that rivalled each other for dominance. One was the Tribunal Temple, in this city under the direct command of Amelexia herself. That hadn't really surprised me, the temple was always in conflict with one faction or another. The second were the almost fanatical royal guard, all fiercely loyal to King Helseth. And third was the Dark Brotherhood, elite killers that only the supper rich could afford. That lightened my spirits somewhat as it meant whoever wanted me dead was obviously in a position of power. I had always kept to myself most of the time, avoiding any significant political argument but I still felt strangely gratifying for someone to take this much time and effort over me. 

The Nord told me that he had been hired by an independent contractor to investigate the arrangements between the three powers to determine if any kind of struggle would break out into the streets. A few days ago, while following a lead, he managed to catch sight of some Dark Brotherhood apprentices in training, practising their skills in the caverns below the sewers entrances in the Plaza. It wasn;t much, but it was the only lead I had since I arrived. 

There were many entrances to the sewers, one large one I had noticed earlier in thew Plaza, near the Statue at the botanical gardens centre. There seemed to be more Argonian slithering out from hiding places during these hours and for some strange reason the plants seemed larger, casting almost omnipresent shadows wherever we went. High Ordinators it seemed patrolled the city only during the day. After that, the Royal guards took over the shift completely. Even with those closed red helms, they still looked less intimidating than the High Ordinators. 

The entrance to the sewers itself was a large grating at the far end of the aqueduct, just where it lanced off toward the other greenhouses. 

"Stay here." I told Rat directing to the nearest three amongst a clump of bushes, to which he was more than happy to recline.

"Many an` evil thing down there." Calvus was sure to warn me of the many dangers as I began to remove the grating, it's rusting bars giving way with a reluctant and loud groan. Years ago, some disaster befell the city of Mournhold and it sank beneath the ground, decaying into shattered ruins. The present day city was built upon it's ruins, the many tunnels and pipes that acted as it's sewer system were shattered remains from the original city itself. They were thus much older and dangerous, parts of the labyrinth of pipes so decrepit they would hold the weight of a fully groan man. 

"Not just that." He added as we crept alone through the dark tunnel, the moonlight from the entrance fading. Our way lit only by a small magic amulet I had acquired. "Linches too." 

"Linches?"

"Aye, Nastiest of the un-dead. They were once powerful wizards in life, un-natural forces pull them back from the grave to prowl the darkness. They feed on your terror, using it as a way to claim your soul." Certainly worrying, to say the least. "They won't coem near us with that amulet of yours though." He was quick to add, his voice sounding relieved. "They're afraid of the light, it hurts them."

From that point on, we said nothing to each other. Absolute silence was needed if we were to have any hope of sneaking up on these Dark Brotherhood people, who were trained assassins. If we weren't absolutely quiet, they'd be able to hear us coming a mile off. The tunnels soon ended, as we stepped out into a large, and dark cavernous like void

The air was cold down here. Far colder than the city above, colder even than the nights of Vvardenfell of which I was still used to. It was as if the darkness around me had swallowed, eaten if you will, all the heat that must filter down from the hot climate above. It was also, profoundly silently, apart from the noise our feet made as we waded through the ankle high water and the omnipresent drippings that resonated throughout the tunnels. 

Admittedly, again I had underestimated the rational sizes of the city of Mournhold when described to me. I made a mental note not to make this mistake again and we ventured on. I could hear strange groans and battle cries coming from deep within somewhere. There was more down here I would like to know, far more than the Dark Brotherhood but for now I decided to concentrate on them. 

From what the Nord told me, I had to look for some sort of old building, half of it crumbling into ruin, the other half lancing from the roof to the ceiling. The shattered remains of adducts allowing many waterfalls to flow away from it. It was here he said he'd said the Brotherhood.

After rummaging through the dark caverns, coming across several dead ends in the process, we finally came across something that looked remotely what was described. The floor was flat and hard, probably sitting on a collapsed set of bed rock. There was evidence here of recent habitation. Several empty bottles lay on the floor, as well as some old crates. The burnt remains from torches littered the ground. I muttered who much more difficult this made things and turned to my companion, reaching into a bag I had brought with me and withdrawing two potions of night eye I had purchased in the market place this morning. 

"Ok, I'm not going to be able to use the light anymore." I told him, handing him one o the potion. "Trained guys like these are certainly going to notice it."

"Tell me." Calvus began, uncorking the bottle. "Are we going to talk or to fight?" I grinned and clenched my fist around the amulet, plunging us both into darkness. 

"That depends of the brotherhood's mood." 

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Night eye potions allow the drinker to assume the acute vision of a Kahjit for about five minutes. Using these, the rocky path behind these ruins was revealed to us, spanning a large crevice and into a large cave opening hidden behind a waterfall. it looked perilously, but the path was marked with a thin rope rail. I gestured toward it and began my ascent, Calvus quickly following.

The climb wasn't all too difficult and we found ourselves behind the water fall quite soon. The cave beyond opened up into a large chamber. Well, now I think about it, it was much more grand. More like a hall with large stone pillars holding up the ceiling. Curved, smooth walls ran along the outside, here and there, round metal doors leading off into various other corridors. A thick, foul smelling fog was flowing over the floor, clinging to our legs as we moved as silently as we could. There was more lighting here, only it was very poor, casting a soft blue glow to the floor from a source somewhere in the ceiling above but I failed to determine it's origins.

As we went, we saw more signs of habitation. Bottles, crates staking upon one another. There was no doubt now that the Nord's information had been correct.

And then we saw them. Five of them, sitting outside the entrance to a large corridor, the steal door ajar. Dressed in the same black uniforms that would have made them invisible were they not talking to one another, swigging bottles of Skooma. I nodded toward Calvus, my hand on the hilt of my katana. He nodded back, and taking only a moment to breath deeply we stepped into the semi light.

I put two fingers to my mouth and whistled. All of them snapped up, dropping their bottles with a loud crash.

"Excuse me. Can I have a word with one of your gentlemen?" They fell, much as I had expected, it not silence, drawing their blades from concealed pockets and darting into their element, darkness. These were men who used the shadows as their power, striking out from their sanctuary, before lashing out again. 

"So much for talking." Calvus said with a satisfied grin, drawing his sabre and charging forward. I shrugged, before wielding by own blade and jumping into the fray.

One of them slunk out of the darkness, silently slipping across the floor, his tanto already drawn. In swung around, hearing his footstep at the last minute, slicing him across the chest sticking him down. 

Another came at Calvus, leaping into the air his blade already pointed down toward the Imperial. Calvus pointed his sabre point up toward his assailant as the thug impaled himself on the blade. He wrenched his entire arm around, casting the twitching body away and directly into the path of another Brotherhood member, tripping him up. I was on him before he could right himself. 

Calvus was a far better warrior then I had first anticipated. He was mowing through them, slicing down assassins at them leapt at him, carving blood out of the air with his sabre. I had to admit, for the first time I was impressive. He was nearly as good a swordsman as me. 

Another came at me from the left, I dodged to the side, then swung my katana up, slicing him across the belly. His soft armour did little to protect him. A third tried a dive from above, not repeating the mistake of the previous assailant, waiting to the last minute to draw his weapon. However the outcome was the same. I swung around and he found himself sliding down the shaft of my sword, leaving a trail of blood on the silvery surface. I slid back and slowly lowered the body of my weapon. 

His new armour aiding him well, Calvus it seems hadn't sustained a single injury, but then neither had myself. I confess, it felt rather satisfying, slicing my way through their masses. I _did _not like being disturbed in bed!

The thugs backed off to a safe distance when the two of us had dispatched a good number of them, retreating partially to the shadows. An very eerier silence fell, which was broken when I began to speak.

"Alright then." I said between drawn out breaths. "Now that we're down killing each other, perhaps you can answer a few questions!" With a sudden burst, the metal door in the wall behind them swung open with a loud crash. More and more men wearing dark brotherhood armour began pouring out, at least twice as more as we'd just dispatched. "You won't be charging extra for this will you?" I asked Calvus. Suddenly, a large man strode out with them.

It was their leader. Of that I had no doubt as the others formed a defensive formation in front of him. That, and his armour was ever so slightly more impressive. He was Dumner, with slicked back black hair and a long quiff hanging over his face. His red eyes seemed to burn brightly in some strange and unsettling way. He seemed to recognise me, although I don't know how, we had never met before. 

"Dai-Sona! The Lord wants him dead! Forget the Imperial, I want that High elf's guts strewn across the floor." He screamed, drawing his own tanto with a sneer. 

"Everyone loves you don't they?" Calvus muttered with a laugh. I didn't share in his merriment. The fight commenced again, not that I had expected anything different. The Dark brotherhood were masters of stealth, remaining in the shadows until they lashed out. Neither Calvus or myself was foolish enough to follow them back so it was mainly a defensive battle, fought with speed rather than strength. 

Another came at me while I was distracted with another opponent, I finished my present attacker off then turned on my heal and cast a silver throwing dagger I can concealed about myself directly into his chest. His yell came out a muffled groan as he fell to the floor. 

I swung back as their leader jumped into the fray, his blade nearly slicing my across my unprotected chin. I tried to contour attack by a horizontal slash across his waist. His armour took the cleave well and he doubled back. 

Calvus staggered slightly, his assailant tanto had nearly penetrated his armour. He swung back with force, cutting three of them down the side with one blow. 

I darted back to aid him as another three came at him from the side, only to find their progress impeded by my blade. 

Their leader came at me again and this time it was Calvus's turn to come to my aid, pushing me down out of the way of a swig I hadn't noticed. On the floor, we both rolled to the side, slicing a few of them across the knees before righting ourselves, charging back into the fight. 

I tried to aid Calvus again, but the Dark Brotherhood leader forbade it, charging at me, dragging his tanto through the air. He defend myself from the blow, then again and again. This Dumner was attacking me with relentless brutality. I managed to match him, but it took a great deal of effort to do so. 

"Who hired you to wipe me out anyway?" I asked as we we're locked in a power struggle. 

"My lips are sealed." He replied, breaking the clash and then darting forward with a fresh attack. Enraged, I smashed a kick forward, knocking him to the floor. I didn't get much of an opportunity to finish him though as I noticed Calvus in trouble. He was outnumbered, badly. I leapt through the mass of black armour, slicing as I went. By now, many bodies littered the floor and I nearly tripped over several. 

Calvus was one the defensive now, trying to evading the swipes, but not having much luck. His armour taking the brunt of it. If I hadn't taken the time and money to equip him with it, we would not have lasted this long. I dragged two of his attackers away from him and stabbed another through the back a thick spurt of blood seeping out his chest.

"DAI-SONA LOOK OUT!" Calvus yelled, smashing a Dark Brotherhood punisher in the face with his gauntleted fist and jabbing his finger to a point behind me. I hesitated only briefly, then turned to watch my back.

I just had enough time to see the Tanto's blade come falling towards me.


	3. The employ of the king and The Robot are...

(I admit I've taken artist liberty when I describe Mournhold, but be honest, won't it be really cool to have those green houses actually in the game?)

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Chapter 3

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It all seemed to happen in slow motion. The black and red short blade of Deadric origin coming down towards me and I had neither the time nor the reflexes to dodge it. Everything else was siphoned out of my perception of the world for that spilt second. 

What saved me, was mere chance and mathematic precision. The blade fell directly onto my chest, at a precise 90 degree angle on my durable glass armour. A loud chinking resonated outward as the shockwaves reflected off my back and into my assailant, his blade retreating away from me for a few moments. If my natural reflexes hadn;t pushed me to that rare angle, I would probably not be writing this saga now.

And that small reprieve was all I really needed, my blade already in my hand I swung completely around, cleaving the tip of my blade across his chest, the metal sinking through the soft armour and into his flesh. The shaft shook as it shattered the rip cage. The silence around my resonated all stopped fighting, staring at me. Calvus seemed immune to the effect and kept up his assault while his opponents were distracted. 

I looked up toward his face, to find their Dumner leader staring back at me. His teeth bared and clenched, a thin trail of blood oozing from the side of his mouth. He coughed wildly, before failing backwards, his hand pressed against his breast, thick streams of red running between his fingers.

"My liege." He coughed, his breath drawn out. "I have failed you, I am not worthy." His voice silenced itself with one sudden cough, his mouth snapped open and life left his eyes. The dark Brotherhood assassins were completely silent. I gathered the impression that an event of this magnitude had never happened to their order. One of their leaders, had not only been defeated, but slain. 

"So which one of you N'wah wants to start round two?" Calvus asked, breaking the silence., wielding his sabre. They all hesitated, baking off into the shadows, their fait outlines highlighted only by the soft blue glow from above and there they remained, watching the two of us closely, hushed whispers spreading through their number. They dared not attack though, even when our backs were turned. 

Out of habit, I searched the body in front of me. Apart from a few septims and a bottle of Skooma, there was nothing out of the ordinary out of the ordinary in his pockets. Then, I found a secret compartment hidden under the chest plate of his armour. I rummaged around inside and retrieved a small piece of rolled up paper, a small length of string 

This was a writ. I had seen such a thing before, the member of the Morag Tong and close friend of mine I showed one to me. They were legal documents that allowed the execution of any certain individual, also allowing the executioner to carry out the deed in public if need be. I unravelled the thread and pressed it out, scanning through what was there. 

This was a writ warranting my death. It had everything, my name, age, race, sex even where I would be the night the attempt had been made of my life. Directly at the bottom of the paper was a wax seal, pressed onto the paper with an elegant looking _H_. I saw no signature, not that I really expected to. These kind of dealing were always dealt with discreetly, leaving as little clue to their identity was possible. 

"Dai-Sona…" Calvus began sounding strangely agitated, tapping me on the shoulder. 

"What?" I asked, looking up. I saw at once what was troubling him. More Dark Brotherhood members were emerging out through the metallic door. Each paused for a second to assess the scene before them before disappearing into the shadows to join their comrades. The more there were of them, the more their outrage seemed to intensify. "I see," I began. Indeed, there were now twice as many as we'd started fighting. More than enough to swarm over us like locusts, and they looked particularly anger. "Take our leave shall we?" I added, pocketing the writ and placing a hand on Calvus' shoulder. One must understand that I am never known for thinking too far ahead, so it was a rare occasion that I had anticipated a situation like this. So in preparation I had cast a Mark spell just outside the gates to the royal. I slowly reached into my bag and withdrew a Recall potion. I prefer using potion to casting actual spells as it requires no concentration and my part and is much faster. They were beginning to grow bolder, emerging from the shadows in a crowd, each with their own blade in hand. I tore the cork from the neck of the bottom with my teeth and spat it in their direction, as if it would somehow slow them down. 

They launched themselves across the room, arms arched, preparing to drive their weapons into our bodies. But by then it was too late, the potion was already past my lips and it's magic underway. Everything around, thankfully including the Dark Brotherhood disappeared in a white haze, leaving the two of us in a detached void were not even our own senses were valid. No sound, not touch, no taste. This only lasted for a matter of seconds, before the world came swirling back around us. 

"I hate magical travel." I remarked, trying to shake off the eerie sense of displacement that was setting in. How mages could stomach even the occasional transport was beyond be, however Calvus seemed less run down by the experience. 

"Well." He remarked, looked around at our new surroundings. Well, not really new as I had cast the Mark spell directly outside the southern gates of the royal palace, the large open space just before the Plaza botanical gardens. The moon light turned passive green as it passed through the massive green houses. "Something tells me you earned a permanent place on their hit list." I sighed. He was probably right, but it couldn't be helped. Dialogue had been preferable, but they had not been in the talking mood, and now probably never will. Well, what's done can't be undone so I supposed I'd have to stick with it. I put too fingers between my lips and whistled. The shrill, high pitched note resonated throughout the gardens, the window panes in the green houses rattling in their metal frames. There was brief moment of silence afterward, broken only by the loud creaking of the thousands of insects hiding throughout the plants, before a black shape came hurtling out of the shadows toward us, stopping at our feet and hoisting itself onto it's hide legs. A pair of red eyes staring up at me. "Come on." I gestured to Rat, lowering my left arm toward him and he instantly hoped onto it, crawling up onto my shoulders. "Let's so get some breakfast."

"I'll pay." Calvus interjected. "It wouldn't feel right after your bought me this new armour if I made you pay for me food as well." 

This strange little Imperial was the first, decent and honest mercenary I ever met. Considering that most of them are money hunger fools who know litl more than how to lift a sword and swing it, it was rare to find a good man who could pull his own weight in that business. 

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"All that." I said angrily as Calvus and I, Rat poised on my shoulder, lying in between the large emerald clumps in my armour, sat at the table. The mercenary drinking from his Tankard of Mead. I fear he has a weakness for the stuff. "For nothing more than my enemies Initial." The current commander of the Mournhold garrison stationed in the Royal Palace, at sat there at the other end of the table listening to my tale. Since I was technically a hired hand, I had had to report to the Legion about the Dark Brotherhood base. He was about Calvus height and dressed in full Legion armour, a large broadsword at his side. His helm sitting on the table next to his small bottle of brandy. 

"Frustrating that has to be." He replied with an impressed whistle. "Well, despite that you did manage to find a real mess of vipers for us to clear out. I'll be sending a few men down to clear up any that remain." I blotted that out. The dark brotherhood weren't my concern anymore, well not for the time being at least. All I needed to know was the identity of the man, whose name began with H, who hired them to wipe me out. "Let me have another look at that writ." He said suddenly as Calvus handed him the small document. He was silent for a moment as he took a good long look at it. I took the time to glance around the Legion depo, which when compared to the rest of the palace was rather small. Just a small collection of roams filled with archery equipment, Imperial banners and swords of different kinds hung on the wall. "This is a nobles seal." He announced after a moment of hesitation. "See, bits of fragmented silver were left behind in the wax from the seal itself." He added, directing my attention top a white powered substance hiding the curves around the wax. 

"So someone with nobility wants me dead." He said, stating the obvious. "Strange, All the nobles I know like me." 

"There are those who sign death warrants for people they've never met if they believe them a threat to their person." Calvus interjected. The Imperial commander nodded in agreement. 

"Too true, and there are a lot of such people taking residence in Mournhold." Rat slithered off my shoulder and onto the table to star gnawing of a piece of stale beard as we talked. "Tell you what." The Imperial commander added suddenly. "The kings royal guard captain, one Tienius Delitian has contacts throughout the nobility in the region. He knows all their seals, signatures, names, you name it. You'd do well to have a word with him." I was beginning to feel like a mouse running the inside of a maze with all these constant twists and turns. Being told to go here, go there. I couldn't place it then and there, but for some strange reason I felt like I was being pushed by some greater will. Still, with little choice thrown toward me, we finished our drinks and then went to see this Tienius Delitian. 

After asking around a little, I discovered that most of the day the royal captain was station in the royal throne room. Of course to get in I had to talk my way around several large guards who it seemed were reluctant to let me and my companions past. Rat especially. 

The royal throne room was filled with Royal guards, all of them apart from two standing around the walls, facing inward toward the two large oak empty seats directly in the centre of the room, which stood on a small raise stone platform. The rest of the floor made up from very fine and polish oak planks. Both Imperial and Royal banners hung from the raised ceiling. 

"Ah you must be Dai-Sona." One of the Guards said cheerfully, approach us as we entered. He Didn't wear a helm so I could see that he was an Imperial and strangely tall for his race, his height rivalling mine. "The commander said you'd be coming. I've heard you dealt with the dark brotherhood for us." He extended his gauntleted hand and shook mine, whether I wanted to or not. "I'm Tienius Delitian." He added, introducing himself as King Helseth's personal Guard and second in commander. "I understand you have something I should see." I started to reach for the writ in my pocket. "Let's take this to somewhere a little more private shall we?" He added quickly, gesturing toward a door just behind the throne. Inside was a small office like room with a desk and a few full bookshelves, illuminated by a single tavern lantern. A few pieces of paper along with a large inkwell sat on the desk. 

Tienius sat himself down in the chair behind it and took the writ from me. 

"Hope you're more help than the Imperial commander." He stated as he started reading. He Didn't reply, remaining quiet for a few moments. 

"Close the door." He said without looking up breaking the silence. Calvus and I exchanged glances before doing as he said. The door slid shut with an ominously loud clanking of it's hinges. "Seems I must offer you an apology on behalf of my king Dai-Sona." I hesitated, not comprehending exactly what he meant. "For this Helseth's seal." Calvus and I were suddenly very quiet. I just stood there, letting it sink in.

"The king…"I began. "Wants me dead?" Tienius simply shrugged.

"He's a king, he wants a lot of people dead." he replayed, sitting down at the desk. "But no guilty man would dare come here protesting his innocence if he was indeed an enemy of our sovereign, and the king has been know to occasionally make mistakes." My shocked expression was quickly replaced by an angry frown. 

"Mistakes? His mistakes nearly left me lying dead in Ebonheart!" I was fuming. I can't remember any other time I'd been more angry. It took a great deal of self control not to seize my katana blade. "I want to have a word with Helseth, NOW!" 

"Don't intimidate me!" Tienius argued back. "No ones sees the king without first proving their loyalty."

"Loyalty? To the man that tried to have me assassinated?!" 

"Calm down!" The royal guard snapped so hardly it silenced even my fit of rage. "The king has his reasons, prove yourself to me and I'll give you his counsel to get this mess cleared up." I stood there, arms at my side, silently bottling my fury. Calvus, who had remained out of the argument tried to interject but myself and the Royal guard captain were arguing too intensely. Eventually I ran out of insults.

"Alright fine." I snarled. The imperial smiled and sat back down in his chair.

"Wise choice." He said lightly. "I can understand your resentment, but you must understand, this are the affairs of royalty. I won't repeat this in front of my sovereign, but most kings are power hungry, willing to kill anyone who they think may get in their way." He paused to lean back in his chair. "Now, we may speak of some tasks for the two of you." I pushed the utter contempt down until I was standing on it and said nothing. "Rumours are rampant lately about the death of king Llethan, the previous monarch. They state that his death was orchestrated by Helseth so that he may achieve the throne. These rumours are ruining the Kings reputation." Tienius added. "I would like you find their source and correct those broadcasting them." He paused to hesitate. "Preferably through non-violent means." Of course I could tell he wanted to take the peaceful option because didn't want the kings reputation tarnished anymore than it already was. The sudden death of his enemies may not go down too well with the citizens. 

"Tell me, will you try to kill Helseth when you eventually meet him?" Calvus asked me as we left the royal palace.

"Now that depends a lot on my mood at said time." I replied. My perspective on this whole endeavour had been thrown upside down at this point. So, Helseth was my enemy was he? But the question was, why? I couldn't put the pieces together. Perhaps, I speculated, I had not located enough piece of the picture to put it together. For now, I was in Helseth's service, and if I was good little agent then Tienius promised I would have my chance to speak with the king. My path lay before me and as reluctant as I was, I had little option but to walk it. 

We set ourselves up in a tavern in the Winged Guar, one of the more popular public houses in Mournhold. I purchased a modest set of rooms with an entrance behind the bar. The bartender was a friendly Kahjitt how was more than happy to lend us the rooms as he was in need of a lodger. It consisted off two small beds rooms and joint living room and kitchen. My own quarters contained a large window with a balcony, providing me with a pristine and inspiring view of the Godsreach section of the city. Godsreach itself was about the size of the great Bazaar and filled with tall manors for the nobility of Mournhold. Street lamps, that were absent in Vvardenfell lit the streets at night. A single candle shielded from the elements only by four small panes of glass. 

This would be our home for the period of time I intended to stay in Mournhold. For a while, I sat at the table wondering to myself if perhaps I could expect more trouble. Perhaps I had altered my enemies to my unhealthy curiosity by so much as speaking with Teinius. I had most of the night alone to ponder this as I sent Calvus off to make inquiries. With little knowledge of how to cook myself, I ordered some food along with a few bottles of Flin. I drank long into the night, using the meal to balance my self out in an attempt to keep moderately sober. 

It was about two in then morning when Calvus returned, when the nasty after affects of Flin were still lingering. He waited until he'd swigged down more Mead and eaten a meal himself before even attempting to talk to me. Eventually, he told me that, although he had been unsuccessful in finding the source of the rumours, which were rampant throughout the city, he told me of a large underground gathering to be hold tomorrow morning at a place not to far away. Even in my present state I knew this was excellent opportunity for us to mingle, become unnoticeable amongst the crowds and seek out the source of these rumours.

This gathering was being held in a place called the Robot Arena. I admitted I had not of such a thing before so Calvus had to explain. Dwemer machine men, called centurions were often found roaming around the ancient sites and settlements of the Dwarves. Sometimes, the odd few were captured and brought to expert enchanters and smiths, who would gain control over the machines.

A lot of gold on the part of the king had been thrown away to get them to Mournhold. Evidentially, this was a big, popular event. 

At a more respectable hour, we left the Winged Guar. I dressed myself before hand in a nobles clothing. A fawn, silk shirt with gold buttons down the front, white silk pants and the boots from my glass armour. Calvus insisted he remained in his Nordic armour. I didn't argue, but I took my sword with me, sitting in in the confines of my shirt just in case.

The sun was a luminous ball gently hidden behind a thick grey cloud, promising rain for perhaps this afternoon. It was still however, boiling hot. I noticed that there were no royal guards in this area of the city. This entire area was policed completely by the High Ordinators.

As we neared our destination, we came across larger and larger crowds, all talking excitedly amongst themselves. 

"From what I hear…" I heard a few of them speak. "They're retiring that old clunker 4:5."

"Shame that, he's the oldest robot in the arena games. My dad claims he was only a toddler when they first brought it in." 

"Your dad claims a lot of things." 

It took some manoeuvring in order to slip, unnoticed through the now massing crowds toward the small building tucked away at the back of Godsreach. Hardly distinguishable compared to the rest of the buildings, yet it was here everyone seemed to be gravitating. Inside, there was a small hall with a large flight of stairs that lead downward toward a large chamber. Which was far larger than we had originally thought. It was giant underground arena, very similar in design to the one in Vivec. Stands situated around the outside of a pit. Everywhere, small merchants had set up crude stalls, selling in game food and drink, along with various shattered pieces from the Centurions such as metal arms, legs and heads. A loud roar of the crowds in and outside was floating like a swarm of bees in the air, buzzing loudly. As we neared the pit, we could see what lay inside. A large, spider like Dwemer robot, it's pivoted eight legs in a tangled heap. Steam gently rising from it. Standing over it, a large metallic fist raised in victory was one of the large stream centurions. However, this centurian was unlike one had I ever seen before. It had an extra set of arms added onto it, eac htaken from a different type of robot. One from a sphere Archer, with a large projectile catapult built into it and the others with a curved Dwemer shield welded into place. It was good deal larger than the standard centurion as well. One it's final arm was a large round fist which could fly off, hit it's target and then return to it's place. Someone had taken the liberty of welding five large spikes onto it's knuckles. It was the strangest thing I'd seen. 

"We should spilt up, we'll be able to survey more that way." Calvus interjected. Averting my attention from this strange robotic man. I nodded in agreement. 

"You go that way and I'll cover the stands over there." I put in, trying to make myself heard admits the crowds one voice. 

"Victory is claimed by 4:5" A large Breton exclaimed, standing on a podium just overlooking the arena. The crowd roared in response. Calvus and I began working our way through the crowds on separate sides of the arena, rat closely following me. I was suppose to be on the alert I knew that, but that strange robot had been captivated and it wasn't long before I found myself staring it completely.

"Wonderful piece of work isn't he?" Someone asked me, putting their hand on my shoulder. I turned, hand on the hilt of my katana. To my, unique surprise I found Amila staring at me with a crude smile on her face. Like myself, she had dressed herself in far more suitable clothing than her netch armour, although the skirt and thick jacket did little for her figure.

"Sometimes I think you're following me Dai-Sona." She added coyly, but loosing none of her venom. When noticed that she wasn't reaching for her knife, I took my hand away from my own weapon. 

"So what are you doing here?" I asked, turning back to look at the arena. 

"Marketing." The dumner woman replied, sounding unusually calm for someone who hated me. "This fights going to be the last for that large fellow." She added, pointing to the robot that had marched itself into the centre of the arena. "They're retiring him, so to speak, and I want to buy to it." I was about to argue that I couldn't see any reason whatsoever for purchasing the large machine when suddenly a large set of metal doors opened up into the bit. The robot paused for a second before turning itself to face them. It could now see the machine completely and not just it's back. Obviously it had been a normal centurion at some time before as it's head was the same size and shape as another. It's large size and extra limbs were the result of a mixture of growth magic and mechanics. 

"And now, the moment you've all been waiting so patiently for… Ladies and Gentlemen I would like to present to you our latest and strongest mechanoid warrior to date." The Breton yelled, gaining everyone's attention for a minute second before a large shape lumbered out of the darkness, coming into full view. 

The crowd cheered wildly as this new, far more streamlined robotic man rolled out on a Sphere centurions wheel. It's top side was that of a Steam Centurion, each arm with the large removable fists common to those type of robots, each enlarged by magicka. "Give it up for 6:5!" Another roar, twice and loud erupted from the crowd as this new machine rolled into full view. 

"Azura damn it." Amila snarled angrily. "I don't want the robot too badly damaged, it won't be worth the money if it is." 

The fight when start, the crowd screaming for carnage. As expected, 4:5 didn't seem to be much of a match for the larger, superior and much more visually impressive machine. Although, it did manage to score a powerful punch directly to the chest ot it's opponent, making a large dent in its golden chest plate and another to the large armoured shoulder pad on it's left shoulder It was almost sickening to watch and I couldn't help but feel sorry for the robot. I kept telling myself, it's only a machine. It doesn't feel pain, but the more I told myself that, I the less I found myself believing in the words. Finally it was all over. 4:5 lay, slumped against the arena floor. One of it's extra arms had been completely crushed, rendered in operable. But it was heartening to see that the other robot was damaged at well. 

"Victory is claimed by the new champion of the Robot Arena, 6:5." The crowd cheered, shouting the new champions number over and over, 4:5 already forgotten. Several large Orcs appeared on the arena floor and dragged the defeated machine away, drawing lines in the sand. Amila grunted and disappeared from my side. 

I wasn't sure exactly what impulse caused me to follow her, but I did anyway. She made her way through the crowds as they moved closer to the pit for a better view of the next fight, toward a small door in the curved wall just behind some small trader stalls. 

"It's going to cost me extra to fix that arm." She snarled angrily at an Imperial man sitting at the office inside, very much like the office I had seen Teinius use in the royal palace, only with more cogs and scrap metal lying around. He was an Imperial dressed in a red and blue robe, currently working himself ragged over the large head of a sphere centurion. "We had an agreement. No serious damage to it's frame."

"Sorry, look it's not my fault. Each Centurion has a mind of it's own, so to speak, it makes it's own decisions during combat. Look, I'll lower the price we agreed on by the cost of the arm, how's that sound?" The Imperial said simply, only looking up briefly from his work, readjusting his 

"Well alright. I'll be back here tomorrow afternoon to pick him up." She replied passing through the entrance and slamming the door angrily after her, only to bump into me.

"I never thought for a moment I'd see you in any legitimate work." I remarked. She narrowed her eyes at me.

"Now do you think I escaped that Telvanni bastard?" She asked. "I had to make a deal with the only sane and decent one of the whole bunch, Master Ayron. I'm in his employ until I work off my debt. He asked me to purchase that robot for him." I sighed. 

"Well from what I hear, Tel Vos will probably be a better home for the big guy that this place is. No more fighting at least." She was silent before a moment, her angry melting away after a second. "Say, you were right. I think I owe you for that whole mess." Rat squeaked in agreement, gently scratching my neck, making Amila chuckle to herself. "Can I buy you a drink?"

------


	4. The horror of Castle Xyr

As one might expect, especially myself, this brief scenario of a cease-fire between Amila and myself did not last long. Our conversation over Flin and Greef quickly turned into argument and argument into fight. Out of the three of us, Rat was the only one to remain quiet, sitting there on the table quietly gorging the inside of a Kwama egg. Everyone sitting around us was staring as we exchanged various insults. The owner of the small outdoor restaurant attempt twice to ask us to either keep it down or leave but couldn't get a single word in.

"To hell with you Altmer." Amila cursed at me, screaming at the top of her lungs. "You're nothing more than a pathetic playboy with the intelligence of a guar and the smell Kagouti." With that she rose from the table, and left, leaving me alone with Rat as Calvus appeared, side stepping as she angrily marched past him.

One may think that I was upset with the way my reconciliation with her had turned out. On the country in fact, I was most pleased. For you see, she had left without spending enough time to slap me, which was as close to reconciliation and I could ever hope to be with her. I let a smile cross my face.

"You have a strange way with women." Calvus remarked, taking the seat beside me, still staring after her.

"As I've been told." I replied, sinking into my chair, sighing out load. "Don't look at me like that." I told Rat who held his head toward me in a very disapproving manner, shaking his whiskers ever so often. "We both knew it would end up that way." I turned to Calvus. "Find out anything?" He shook his head and said,

"No nothing. Everyone I talked to seemed pretty loyal to the present king and mournful of the old one."

"Pretty much what I expected." I admitted. "No one's going to actually going to denounce Helseth in public." I sighed to myself. "Whatever's spreading these supposed rumors obviously isn't word of mouth."

Calvus turned to yell at the bar.

"Two Nordic mead please."

"I don't drink the stuff." I put in.

"Who says I'm ordering it for you?" I sighed again and retreated into my mind to collect my thoughts and try and make sense of the whirlwind events that had put me here. Eventually, a very attractive looking Breton maid severed the drinks and with in came a free newsletter. The common Tongue it appeared to be very popular, at least in this area of godsreach as I could see a lot of other people sitting around the other tables and chairs. For a public gossip station, it seemed amazingly well printed.

"Hello…" I said to myself. Here it seemed, I had simply stumbled upon the source of the rumors Tienius had mentioned. In this paper, various sources mentioned King Helseth and the previous monarch. It seemed to indicate the Helseth had poisoned Llethan, which really didn't surprise Calvus or myself in the slightest.

* * *

"Yes this is exactly the kind of lies being spread around." Tienius said out load, reading the copy of the Common tongue we had brought him. Slapping the paper with the back of his hand. I maintained my stern and unforgiving stance neither approving nor disapproving of the task he'd set me. "Of course it isn't an actual source in itself but it will have to do for now, my commendations for your detective work."

"Whatever, now if you've finished having us spy on the people I'd like to have a little word with Helseth." Tienius laughed, leaning back in his chair.

"Don't be foolish. You haven't proven your loyalty to the throne yet, not by a long shot." I forced air out through my nose, flaring my nostrils in a rather undignified way in anger. This paper trail of chores and tasks was beginning to play on my nerves. "One more task, and I'll see what I can do." Tienius added. We were inside his office again, having to wait several hours until he came off duty and already I was immensely frustrated. "I need someone to go and interview a few people inside the Tribunal Temple here in Mournhold."

"And by someone, you mean us." Calvus added, sounding as annoyed as I was.

"What on Tamerial for?" I asked. Tienius leaned forward in his chair.

"You see, the king has many enemies and he would prefer it if one of those enemies wasn't the temple. I'd like you to go to the Temple itself as find out what their opinion is of the king." I looked up toward the ceiling, tucking my Glass helm under my arm. Rather to show off than to protect myself, I wore the armor while inside the royal palace. I enjoyed the jealous looks I got from some of the servants and guards.

"I very much doubt anyone in the temple is going to tell me anything, they're all too fanatical." I interjected, crossing my arms. Tienius simply shrugged standing up and crossing over to the shelves.

"Can't hurt to look." He said, reaching up and taking down a canvas scrolls. By the runes written in black ink, I could see it was a Divine intervention scroll. "Just in case." He added in reply to my questionable glance as he handed my two of them. The massive presence of the Tribunal here in his city was due to the Goddess Amalexia, who had the northern part of the city pretty much all to herself. Standing proud in a massive courtyard was her private temple, made from pure white marble, artistically carved to resemble the finest seashells one may find upon a beach. The courtyard itself was just as spectacular as the Plaza, towering trees and those strange lamps stood side by side in rows, the fantastic trees being attended to by Dumner gardeners. Everything was so perfect in design in this place I felt like I'd stepped into some kind of oil painting. The two moons hung transparently in the evening light, rising just above the towering structures of the white temple. No royal guards patrolled this area, no, here the Guards were all high Ordinators and I began to feel slightly out of place as Calvus, rat and myself began approaching the large engraved wooden doors that marked the entrance. The Dumner, were not necessarily racist in their religious beliefs, but they did maintain a certain feeling of racial equality.

"Lovely people aren't they?" Calvus asked as we made out way inside. The Dumner inside the temple were about as cheerful as those outside and some refused to even speak to us, turning their noses up at what I believed they thought as, annoying outlanders. We were also careful not to overstep our bounds, to remain very subtle in our inquiries as not to be sniffed out as royal agents, Tienius warned us that that scenario might be particular dangerous. The temple was divided into several sections, all curving around a central chamber that housed the goddess herself. Only those she summoned were be allowed to enter that chamber. Most of the servants, priests and healers had never actually seen her in person. Eventually, we found ourselves in the infirmary of the Temple, a large section of it devoted to the healing of the sick. Even there, the only one who would so much as speak with us as a woman called Galsa, a very good healer from what I gathered. Even so, she seemed hesitant about speaking to us with anyone else around. So to loosen her up, as one might put it, I engaged her in conversation about Tribunal believes, after that, she seemed a little more open and less cautious with her words.

"I was overjoyed when Amalexia began talking with the people again. I thought it a sign that perhaps the Tribunal was winning the fight against Dagoth Ur. But lately…her words have been surprisingly different." Galsa said with a hearty sigh. She was quite a young woman with blood red hair and eyes, her grayish blue skin without a single flaw, a collection of freckles on each side of her nose. Her infirmary was a large room with shelves stacked with healing scrolls and potions around the walls. Various pieces of alchemy equipment and ingredients lay on several tables, along with some scrawled notes. A single high Ordinator stood guard as the far end of the room, as silent as still as a statue

"Different?" Calvus asked. "How so?" The priestess paused, giving the Ordinator at the far end of the room a momentary glance.

"Amalexia used to preach about healing the sick, compromise and understanding. Now… she…she sings words that frighten me. No longer are her songs filled with love, now all she does is promise rewards for the unwavering loyal and the utter destruction of the sinners and heretics." There was a brief silence as I found it difficult to find a suitable reply.

"That is rather disturbing." I admitted eventually, the silence playing on my mind. "Mortals should be wary when gods have a chance of disposition."

"I'm not saying action should be taken, I'm just worried what her new messages could mean. She'd already speaking out against the Imperial and the rule of king Helseth." Calvus and I exchanged glances.

"She speaks out against the king?" Galsa nodded in reply.

"Yes, and that's where I'm entitled to agree with her. Helseth had King Llethan and his successors removed so he could claim the throne. In the eyes of Imperial law, that makes him the ruler of Mournhold and the surrounding lands and not the Tribunal temple as it should be! Llethan as a joke granted, but he was OUR joke. As long as he was sitting on the throne, we could ignore him and praise the Tribunal in the manners they deserved, as rulers." Calvus and I hesitated, looking at each other hesitantly.

"Right…" Calvus began, not coming up with anything else more appropriate to the Dumner's statement. Sensing a possibility of being in danger, I quickly engaged Galsa in small talk to distract her from any suspicions she may have about us. This was simply a means of departing without it being considered noteworthy. Eventually, we bid her goodbye and left the temple as quickly but as inconspicuously as possible.

"Very interesting." Tienius said when we returned to the Royal palace with the information. "Clearly there is more going on behind the vial of Mournhold than even I imagined." I was inclined to agree with him there. I too could sense a link somewhere. I had it in the back of my mind that everything that had happened to this point was part of some grand design. Of whose hand, I could not be certain.

"I suspect there may be more to find." I added. Tienius nodded in agreement, thinking quietly to himself.

"Indeed." He said, drumming the fingers of his free hand on his desk. I waited for him to reply, but when he did not I coughed to regain his attention. He looked up questioningly, before realizing what he had forgotten. "Oh yes I see, you wanted to speak to Helseth?" I remained still, staring at him in silent confirmation. "Well obviously I can't put you in now, but come back in a few days time and I'll see what I can do." One of my eyes twitched in fuming rage, but instead of foolishly loosing my composure, I bid the Imperial Captain goodnight and Calvus and I returned to the winged Guar. But when I did get there, I angrily picked a fight with a drunken Nord, who admittedly was much stronger than I realized. Eventually, the bartender broke us up and threw the Nord out onto the street to sober up a bit. I would have gone to, had I not paid so much money to stay. Before retiring to bed, A small Wood Elf whose name I can't recall, who was none none-speaking terms with the Nord, thanked me for having him thrown out. Stating that it settled a score for him.

* * *

The next morning, I awoke with a painful hang over and discovered that Calvus had managed to talk me into drinking some Nordic mead, the foul taste of that honey drink still in my mouth. As soon as I presentable, I ventured downstairs for breakfast. Calvus was already there with Rat, being served by the Kahjit barman with their own food. The Winged Guar was a large public house, most only came in for the occasional drink but the rooms they supplied were more than adequate for my needs. During the time I would spend in Mournhold, I would call this unlikely place, home.

"You certainly made a spectacle of yourself last night." The mercenary said with a hearty chuckle.

"Thanks to your Nordic mead no doubt." I added, sitting down next to him. The Imperial shrugged.

"I didn't force you to drink it you know." He put in. As I had no need of him today, I let him have the day of and then went to explore Mournhold some more alone with Rat by my side, refraining from the temptation to re-enter the sewers again for fear of bumping into some Dark Brotherhood stragglers. For the first time I noticed how beautiful the city actually was. So large and complex, but wonderfully simply in design. The hot and humid air and temperature I could get used to, but this place was just so…so…. stunning. Now I could see the ingeniousness of the Plaza's magnificent green houses, the beauty of the strange and intrigue flower arrangements and the subtle tranquility of the many aqueducts.

"And look who we have here." A voice announced from behind me as I stood for a second time admiring the statue at the centre of the Plaza. I turned to find a very well dressed Dumner noble walking toward me.

"Tallax." I said in warming greeting. Like Amila, Tallax was a member of the thieves' guild and together with her, we had been on a number of jobs, including the one that afforded me my glass armor which I had left back at the Winged Guar. His hair was set in a short middle parting and, like most Dumner, his hair was raven black, set in a middle parting. His clothes were rather extravagant, with white silk pants and thin blue shirt with an upturned collar. On his feet was wore a pair of thick, bone-mold boots.

"Now just what is a man like Dai-sona doing in the respectable city of Mournhold?" He asked me as he slapped me on the back. I laughed.

"That's what I've been asking myself since I got here." As I relayed the story to him, skipping the occasional detail he looked at him with wide red eyes.

"You are either the most unfortunate man alive, or a very good story teller." We had a laugh together as he bought me a drink of Flin.

"So just what are YOU doing here?" I asked him as he handed me the small gray bottle. "The last I checked, you were living it up as a House Brother to the House Hlaalu." Tallax was also a member of the Hlaalu, and one of such high ranking that he had his own manor down river from the town of Balmora. There he lived a rather comfortable lifestyle, until he got bored and decided to go down to the South wall for his other line of work. Tallax was the very definition of a gentleman thief.

"Much like yourself Dai, I find I have become little more than a puppet to Helseth's rule."

"Oh I see, a royal agent?" The Dumner nodded in reluctant agreement.

"Yes, they found out about my…business ventures and promised not to tell as long as I lent them my services for the time being."

"Have you spoken with Helseth himself?" I asked, now very interested. Tallax nodded.

"Once or twice, despite his devious nature he's a nice fellow and good card player."

"Don't think you can get me an audience with him do you? It's just I don't really trust that Teinius captain of his." Tallax laughed out load.

"Neither do I, I don't have much authority with the royal guard but I will see what I can do." With that, we bid good day and carried on in different direction, although I myself with a new feeling of attachment to this city.

At high noon, the point when Mournhold became the most hot, Rat and myself eventually came to the Bazaar; the busy market area of the city and settled ourselves down in the main square, where actors were using the large stone stage there to put on a production of the well known and popular play, The horror of Castle Xyr. A fantastic horror novel that made fun of the house Telvanni, the more magical of the great houses. The leading actor was an Argonian with golden and emerald green skin, who played the role of an Imperial Captain who, in the main plot came to the Telvanni residence to investigate the Murder of an Ashlander. I hadn't actually read the book, but I did enjoy the production of it. The stage was made from stone and set up in front of rows in the square so people could simply come in off the streets and watch, paying as they left. Despite the fact that an Argonian would normally prove a very poor choice for an Imperial Captain, the production was rather impressive and I hadn't noticed a single mistake by the actors.

It was the flash of a knife that caught my eye, diverting my attention away from the play. A Dumner in the front row of the audience had drawn a blade and before anyone knew what was happening, launched himself across the stage toward the Argonian. The lizard man didn't have any weapons on him, nothing to defend himself with. Had I not been sitting next to him, I would have been able to act in time. I grabbed the attacker and threw him to the floor, knocking the knife from his hand with a solid kick. The audience around us was in awe as the royal guards, hearing the commotion hurried to my aid, but did not get there in time to prevent the Dumner from casting a spell on me, one that poisons the body, acting slowly. As the magical venom coursed through my body, I found myself falling backwards into darkness.

* * *

As I fell, I was granted a vision of something that terrified me to the core of my being. I saw all the Tribunal gods die one after the other. I saw all of the Empire collapse into a bloody civil war, I saw a figure wearing a Golden mask, standing on the top of a fiery mountain send armies of unspeakable horrors out, turning all before them to ash. I saw the figure that led them, a strange, dark humanoid being with red glowing eyes. Clad in black armor, each peace down the arms and legs was covered in shape blades. The helm had a large black mask that allowed only the eyes and surrounding skin to be seem. This figure wielded a sword made of flames as he turned toward me, glared and then removed his mask. I stared in horror as this terrifying being had my own face. Suddenly all this gave away to beams of white light and all around me as a colorless void, and suddenly I became aware of another presence. I stared hard, and then I saw it. A figure, dressed in black armor like the one before it, yet had no blades on it and no mask. Again I saw myself standing there, wielding that sword made of fire. Around me stood four other figures. One of which had a feminine figure. The light blared brightly, I was awoken.

* * *

"Mate, you nearly gave us a heart attack and a half." Tallax's voice told me even before I regained my sight. "Oh thank oblivion you're alright." He added as I sat up groggily, shaking my head. I found myself lying across the stone stools sat in front of the stage, the audience standing up talking to one another and the large collection of royal guards that were patrolling nearby. Someone had placed a pillow under my head. The Production had been called off it seemed following the assassination attempt of it's leading actor, who I just noticed as standing beside me.

"Frill- neck owes you his life master Dai-Sona." He said with a short bow. "If very you need a favour, please do not hesitate to ask." I nodded, not really registering what he said at all. Rat was sitting in my lap, but when he noticed me movement, he hoped onto my shoulder and started rubbing his fur affectionately against my neck.

"See the trouble you get in without me?" Calvus asked as I noticed the mercenary standing nearby in his Nordic ring mail armor. "I can see I won't be able to take many days off while I'm in your service." I remained silent for a moment to let more of my surroundings soak in. Whether what I had seen had been a nightmare I couldn't say, but whatever it had been had left me feeling extremely vulnerable and cold.

"What happened?" I asked, sitting up properly. Tallax stood up, straightening out his back.

"It seems our actor friend here upset someone with his last performance, upset them to the point were they believed it necessary to have him killed." The Argonian looked rather guilty.

"Yes this is true, some Telvanni did not like the jokes made about them in the production and my telling of them, so they hire hit man to talk me out." Tallax groaned.

"The assassin cast a very powerful venom spell. If I hadn't had an anti-poison potion on me, you probably wouldn't be here." He explained. "Are you sure you're alright?" He added, looking at me a little closer.

"I'm fine, really." I replied, making my way rather unsteadily to my feet. "What happened to…"

"The assassin?" Calvus asked, completing my question for me. "Locked up in the royal prison, doing ten months hard labor for attempted murder." He laughed. "Come on…" He added, helping me up along with Tallax. "Let's get you some food and a good solid drink." And with that, I couldn't argue.

* * *

It took me a day and a half to fully recover from the affects of the poison. During that time, I was confined to my room at the Winged Guar with a large chamber pot into which I was regularly sick. When he wasn't doing jobs for the Royals, Tallax would bring me as much news as he could attain. Tienius was presently investigating the possibility of a conspiracy to bring Helseth's bloodline down. Already he was looking for proof of this conspiracy and Tallax had had to sneak around the Guards quarters to see if they were doing anything underhanded. I suspected that before too long, I would be involved in this. Back then, I had no idea how right I was, but I'm getting too far a head of myself. While in Mournhold, Tallax had developed the taste for poetry. Many an hour he would simply sit in front of my window, staring out at the beautiful city, scribbling notes. This was rather strange, at least I thought so. I'd know Tallax for a long time and this seems ever so slightly out of character for him. Tallax became a regular visitor to the Winged Guar and I was grateful for his visits and informastion. Before the strength to my limbs fully returned and while Tallax, Calvus and myself were enjoying a bit of Gambling with a man called Sellas, the Wing Guar received a rather unusual visitor. Unusual in the meaning that this visitor was a member of the Tribunal temple, and those belonging to the faith were rarely seen in places like this. He was, not surprisingly, a Dumner. Completely bald, apart from a small sprouting of black hair that descended as a pony-tail from the back of his head. It was early morning when he arrived and so most of the regulars at the bar were not there, leaving the large tavern feeling rather empty and neglected.

"You must be Dai-Sona." He said cheerfully, striding over as his orange robe swayed from side to side. One each shoulder he wore a glass palandron, made from the finest emerald shards. He looked rather smug in them and I felt that he might not as much so had he seen my entire set, although he did manage to get a very look at my polished Dai-Katana. "I've heard all about you and your actions in the Great Bazaar. It's turned you into quite the hero in the city you know."

"Flavor of the month." I replied causally. "Give Mournhold a few weeks and I'll be completely forgotten." The dumner said nothing to that, smiled and sat down next to me.

"How would you like to do a real service for the city." I side glanced him. "I can not tell you my name as of yet, but I can tell you that I am in need of the services of one such as you, well, the temple is at least." My interest began to wander back to the gambling before the dumner pulled a large sack out of his robe and placed it on the bar before me. Rat hoped off my shoulder and sniffed the bag curiously. I unwrapped the small amount of string that tied it up and discovered gold inside, twice as much gold as my first amount. "Do the job, and it's all yours."

"What would you have us do dear fellow?" Tallax asked, leaning over my shoulder. Even Calvus was pulled away from his Nordic mead, his gaze transfixed by all that wonderful money. I realized that now that they knew about, I was going to have to take them with me and share it out between us.

"It is, tradition for city state kings to have their own army." The Dumner explained, reaching into his robe and withdrawing a map on a scroll. "We believe that Helseth is assembling such an army, but one that will be used to terrorize the land. A Goblin army." We all looked up in surprise.

"Goblins?" I repeated. The Dumner nodded, spreading the map out. It was a map of caves and tunnels.

"Yes, horrible, deformed creatures. Even we never believed Helseth would go as far as to use them in his forces. This map was drawn by ventures down into the tunnels and bottomless voids beneath Mournhold." I had been there before with Calvus and I suspected I had only seen a small part of it. "We believe that the Goblins War Chiefs are stationed here." He pointed to a location on the map. "What we need you to do, is to go down there and kill the war Chiefs. Goblins, being the brainless creatures that they are, will become an undisciplined and disorderly group, which we will easily be able to finish off."

"Exactly, how many war chiefs are there?" Calvus interjected.

"Only two, but both are amazingly strong, so don't underestimate them. One more thing, we have reason to believe that these Goblins are also being trained by two Altmer trainers. We would like you to kill them as well." Quickly he folded the map up and handed it to me. "I must go now, before Helseth is informed of my actions. With that he bid us farewell and promptly disappeared.

"What do you make of it?" I asked Tallax. The Dumner poet/thief/gentleman stroked his chin thoughtfully.

"I have heard nothing of any secret army, Goblin or otherwise."

"Neither have I." Calvus added, but then quietly surveyed all the money our visitor had left behind. "But you just don't say no to 20,000 septims." The decision made, we began to prepare. If I had learnt anything, the tunnels beneath Mournhold should not be traversed lightly. I stocked up on food and provisions such as light, night eye and healing potions, as well as recall and divine intervention scrolls. Calvus did the same, although he preferred to purchase scrolls that had more destructive effect. Tallax simply disappeared for a while to prepare himself, but we saw him again on the evening we decided to leave. He arrived back at the Winged Guar, dressed in full Bone-mold armor, house Haallu style, but a strange, straight, bird like helm I had seen him pick up in Maar Gan once. For a weapon, he used a crossbow and silver bolts, fearing normal ones would have little effect.

"Don't you have your own business to attend to?" Calvus asked, hardly glad to be sharing our money with a third person. Tallax removed his helm and smiled.

"Good sir, if you were me, would you miss out on a chance to smash some Goblin heads in and earn a third of 20,000 septims while you're at it?" He reached into a pocket on the underside of his chest plate and withdrew a magically imbued scrolls

"Summon Storm Antorach?" I asked, staring at it. He nodded, his helm tucked under one arm.

"Should be a suitable match for a Goblin War chief wouldn't you say?" My own conjuration skill was quite low and the best I could manage would be to summon a Scamp if I was lucky. I knew Tallax's magic skills were far better than mine, although I wasn't sure if he'd be able to control a creature as powerful as an Antorach. There is something, profoundly satisfying about the comrade ship of a new and old friend and so I felt strangely complete as we set off. Since our last venture down into the tunnels, I had since learnt that there was another entrance here in Godsreach that was far more accessible and it was a more direct route to the supposed Goblin site.

A large, but shallow canal coursed through this section of the city, each end with a large, removable grating that covered a pipe entrance leading down into the sewers and from there, into the tunnels. Again we went at night, so our actions might now be noticed by the town guards and reported as suspicious.

As we stood staring from the top of a bridge down towards the rusting iron grating, I muttered to myself.

"Here we go again."


	5. Goblin Army

(Sorry this took so long but I've been busy. College is a demanded mistress.)

* * *

"Illusion, the study of magic that manipulates the varying degree of light around the castor, created the desired effect. For instance, an invisibility spell…turn to page four." Ranis Athrys, the present overseer of lessons at the Mages Guild in Balmora, droned one day. When I was first realized from Imperial custody, I realized that I needed to belong to some organisation or group. Vvardenfell was not exactly outlander friendly and unless you had some official, guild protection, you ran the risk of being targeted by the more fanatical Dumner groups such as the Commona Tong. Unfortunately, the study of magic was not something I was naturally born to. I mastered a few basic spells, but I never made it past the rank of apprentice. On top of that, their style of work bored me. Studying local flora for their use in alchemy, spending hours on end brewing the perfect healing potion, frustrated countless by unwanted damaging effects. I never was that patient, on top of that I was eventually expelled for trying to style an Enchanters soul gems.

However, I had stayed long enough to learn a light spell. It was primitive, and didn't last long, but it helped light our way through the gloomy tunnels when our Night Eye potions wore off.

With our Marks set at the Winged Guar and Recall potions at the ready, Calvus, Tallax and myself made little attention to our surroundings. Using magical transportation, as disorienting as it was, one did not need to worry about getting lost. We had however, underestimated the vastness of the caverns, again. Still, with some vague direction in mind we ventured on in search of the Goblin Army and their War chiefs. The map we had been given had obviously been drawn in a hurry as we came across several dead ends and bottomless pits not marked. Yet somehow we made it to the cavern marked as the location of the war chiefs, so far, we hadn't seen any goblins.

The cavern was large, but with a low ceilings, stalactites and stalagmites lancing out of the ground and ceiling here and there. The low tickle of water from some underground pool was slowly beginning to float through the air, a thick clammy sensation in the atmosphere.

"You realize of course." Calvus said suddenly, gazing up at the ceiling. "That we are completely surrounded." Tallax and I glared at him.

"What are you talking about?" I asked, my fist clenched, rays of light from the spell radiating away from it. Calvus smiled and lifted his sword, gesturing to a dark shadow in the corner of the cavern with it.

"Shine the light over there." I did so, the shadows parted and several large, green shaped grunted at us, before disappearing into the darkness.

"Goblins?" Tallax asked, holding his cross bow out. His eyes glaring from behind his helm.

"I've never seen a Goblin before so I couldn't tell you. But whatever they are…" Calvus began, his sword sweeping a 360 degree circle around us. "They have us trapped here." Now I could see dark shapes, hideously deformed, slipping in and out of the shadows. Slowly, I reached for the Amulet of light I'd been saving. It was a powerful light source and I hadn't used it before as not to alarm the War chiefs to our presence. It seemed now that we had been detected anyway, so I might as well use it. The magically enchanted trinket awoke and light blared out illuminated the entire cavern.

"Holly…" I began.

These, Goblins, if that's what they were, were as a foul creature as the Dumner had described, as deformed in appearance as any Corpus Stalker. Some arms and legs larger in portion to the body. Green skin like an Orc, like scaly like a reptile. Their armour was made of poor quality Chitin and steal armour, held to their bodies by simple rope, barley fitting. Their shields and weapons as deformed as they were. When they tried to move, their bodies couldn't even master walking, so instead they simply hoped and jumped. What they lacked in physique they made up for in numbers. There were literally thousands of them. Thousands upon thousands of glaring yellow eyes staring down from the darkness at us. Like a swarm of insects or bats, clinging to the cavern walls in thick clumps.

"Woah nelly." Calvus stated, backing off a few paces.

"Do not move unless it is absolutely necessary." I said through gritted teeth to them and they were only too happy to oblique, although I noticed Tallax's finger on the trigger on his crossbow, tensing. Those few on the uneven cavern floor were slowly making their way over to us, snorting loudly, as if their large tusks prevented them from forming words. There were without a doubt the most hideous creatures I had ever seen. Their leader, the largest off them, a large, rusty sword in it's inflated right hand; sniffed us with it's large bulbous green nose. It's yellow eyes narrowed at us and I could see the strange, animalistic gleam in them. Suddenly, it roared it's head back and bellowed out load, it's roar echoing through out the cavern. Calvus and Tallax hulled back an inch as the Goblins all began to sing with combined grunts, a choir signing a song that required no words.

"What are they doing?" Tallax whispered, his own voice sounding rather unsteady. I didn't reply, having none for him. Suddenly, they all went remarkably quiet and the ones near us backed off, retreating into the darkness. Then, two large bulking forms reared up from the gloom and stepped into the light.

"Goblin war chiefs I presume?" Calvus asked with a nervous laugh. Unlike their small underlings, their bodies were not deformed in proportions. They looked almost like Orcs, yet had goblin characteristics, enlarged tusks and muscles, small yellow eyes. Over their bodies they wore dented black armour with steel straps over their forearms and legs. They towered over us, grunting loudly. In each hand, they had a large mace embedded with nails.

"Darok, stand down!" A voice over the grunting shouted as the two large goblins looked back toward a cavern entrance as two figures strode out of it. They were Altmer, like me, one wearing Orc Armour and the other wearing steal. The hair on one of them was tied up into a bun like mine and the other had his loose and frailing around his shoulders. It quickly began evident that these where the Altmer Trainers the Dumner had mentioned.

The second war chief, walked over to them, grunting at regular intervals, almost like they were speaking.

"That doesn't matter right now, three people disappearing, don't you think the people of Mournhold will find that suspicious, we'll have search parties galore combing the caverns, what then." Hardly satisfied with that answer, but forced to accept it none the less, the war chief grunted loudly his disapproval and smacked the other, who was still towering over us, glaring with evil intent, on the shoulder. They moaned at each other for some brief duration, before they both went to join the rest of their kin, who seemed about as disappointed as they did that there wasn't going to be a fight.

"And as for you." The second Altmer began angrily, turning toward us. "Consider yourselves extremely lucky, if we hadn't reached here in time, they would have torn you limb from limb."

"We could have taken them." Calvus said in a weak voice, sliding his sword back into it's sheath. One of the Altmer smirked at him.

"The three of you." He began, then gestured to the goblins around them, loosing interest now the treat of violence had all but past. "Against thousands of them?" Calvus looked embarrassed. "I take it the Temple hired you to destroy the war chiefs?"

"How did you…" Talax started.

"We have adventures coming down here all the time on similar deals. Most of the time they get lost and recall to some place, giving up. Occasionally some of them get lucky, but Helseth gave us a enchantment that erases their memory. They show up at the local tavern in a daze and people just pass them off as drunks." One of them explained.

"So Helseth doses plan to use this army." I stated, trying to collect my thoughts. The Altmer looked at each other, then began laughing at the top of their lungs.

"Are you kidding, he despises us. He only lets us stay in the underground caverns because it's required by a war contract the Imperials have. They're the ones using this army, the temple just got wind of us and blamed Helseth. I get the feeling they don't like him very much." He laughed and put his hands on his hips. "I'm Armion, and this is my comrade Yarnor." The other Altmer nodded his dead slightly. "We're the high elven Trainers you were probably told about."

"Why exactly are you telling us all this?" Tallax asked and Tarnor gained a superior smirk, reached into his armour and withdrawing a small ebony ring. It's red like glow showed it had been enchanted by some kind of sorcery.

"Because you won't remember it anyway."

Having the skill to be able to talk my way out of nearly any situation my mind began to race.

"Now, hold on there." I quickly put in. "Surely we can come to some arrangement." One of the Alter stared long and hard at us all.

"What sort of arrangement?" They both asked together. The compromise we came up with was simple. We agreed to tell the temple we'd slain the Goblin war chiefs and so they would forget about hounding them and in return we get all that wonderful gold. As proof for our heroic deed, the war chief Darok reluctantly handed over his helmet.

With this in hand, he claimed our reward and began to live on easy street for some time. Mournhold seemed even more spectacular when you have a full purse at your side.

Calvus near drowned himself in nordic mead for a few weeks in the pleasant company of women. Tallax, with his share of the money in whatever investments he had. He kept his affairs a strict secret from me.

I on the other hand turned my attention to replacing my weapons with those of better quality. I had had my eye on a beautiful Deadric Dai-Katana for sale in the Master Smith's workshop. The blade, forged by a lesser minion of oblivion, was beautifully curved. The face of it's forger trapped in the hilt. As I wielded it in practise, I realized the weapons potential. Incredibly light and fast, the sword's edge dangerously sharp. It was a must have.

The rest of my share was spent on repairing my glass armour and I also managed to gather in a very nice set of glass throwing daggers. Still, my curiosity not satisfied, I returned to the Royal palace to see if I could finally get my audience with the king.

"I was beginning to wonder where you'd been." Tienius said with a hearty chuckle as I entered the office.

"Just around, you sent for me remember?" I replied giving him the most casual look I could manage.

I was, by no stretch of the imagination as good at stealth as Tallax. But I had done a few jobs that involved similar scenarios before. I remember a Kahjit at the South Wall Corner Club in Balmora called Suger-lips Hasabi asked me to retrieve a bottle of Vintage brandy from one of the manors next to the two guard towers that overlooked town. But that is a story for another time. The Imperial captain said that he would arrange a meeting with the king and me if and only I gathered evidence of a conspiracy against Helseth from Llethan manor. The home of the late king Llethan's widow.

Tienius had offered no information as to the security and layout of the manor, stating that he trusted my skills. That, however, I still very much doubt. Still, I did manage to find entry from the roof. Dressed in completely black clothes, I slid in through an open window. I was beginning to wish I'd had the opportunity to take some of the armour belonging to the dark brotherhood, that would have been immensely helpful. The roof opening I entered into turned out to be a storage room, large shelves with crates of various bits of junk inside lined the walls. I raced over to the door and stood with my ear against the wood, listening. I heard nothing, no soft padding of footsteps outside, so I slowly reached for the door handle and pushed it open. Only a crack through, and peered inside the upstairs hall. The hall was carpeted with a thick red carpet and several oil paintings on the wall. I saw no one and so quickly ventured outside, closing the door quietly behind me.

The house, I quickly searched through, noting the locations of possible entrances and exists. There was also an office downstairs and upstairs, the door to each locked and magically sealed. Rather strange, doors were only magically sealed if there was something behind them that people did not want visitors to see. Now I faced the challenge of picking and probing both locks, remaining as silent as possible. I decided to unlock the downstairs on first, I knelt down beside the locked door and laid out the probes and lock picks. A magic spell could give you a very nasty shock if it wasn't disarmed correctly. The lock proved easily to disable, the magic spell upon it, as expected took a little longer, but eventually I managed to disarm it. It pushed the door open reluctantly, half expecting some lingering magic to punish my intrusion. The room inside was completely square, with two tables laden with books of all kinds on each side. Several copies of the Common Tongue newsletter lay on the floor. Empty shelves lined the remaining two walls. I began searching around, using the small amulet I had with me to light my way, to read any documents I found in the darkness. A few account records were all I could find here. Little evidence of Tienius so called conspiracy. I removed myself from the office and locked and magically sealed the door behind me, to leave no evidence that I had been there. Now, I moved on to the second office upstairs.

I had to wait as one of the servant had roused himself and was presently walking down the stairs. I froze, before darting behind a closet, remaining for the most part out of sight. Luckily the Dumner male was so tired he didn't notice my movement at all when I slipped past him once he cleared the stairs. I returned quickly to the room I had entered from and waited until he returned to his room with a glass of Flin. Without wasting time, fearing that my presence may be discovered soon I quickly was before the door of the upstairs study. Again I unlocked the door and disarmed the trap. The room beyond was smaller than the one downstairs and filled with shelves of books and documents, and this time however I had some luck. Inside a cabinet I found a note scribbled down, it was full of angry words and the nature of the writing was very anti-Imperial and spoke out against the King, in fact it labelled him as a thief, a liar and a murder. Scanning through the document, I discovered several names of various citizens in Mournhold ready to speak out against King Helseth's murderous ways, possibly even rise against him.

I returned with the evidence to the captain, he smiled pleasantly and then told me to return in two days. Then, he promised me, Helseth would speak with me. I was beginning to think that I would never get my audience with the king. So, with nothing more than a promise again, I left and returned to the Winged Guar. Rat was waiting for me and standing behind him was another Dumner agent of the Tribunal temple.

"You have been granted a very special honour." He said , his face straight and quite pale. "Alamlexia herself has asked for your presence."

* * *


	6. Mazed Band of Barlizar

(I do not own Morrowind or Tribunal. I'm taking a slight artistic licence when describing the people and events of Mournhold)

* * *

I still remember that day with crystal clarity. It was a fateful day, when I met two beings who would play such a vital role in shaping my destiny. Amalexia and Barilzar, but I'm getting ahead of myself.

The Dumner who meet me at the Winged Guar introduced himself as Gavos Drin, current head of the Tribunal Temple in Mournhold. He looked visibly shaken that I, and Outlander, had been called into the presence of his lady. I believed he considered outlanders not fit to look upon her.

With Rat on my shoulder, I began to wonder what I should say when I saw her. This was one of the Three gods of the Dark elves. Amalexia was the patron goddess of house Indorial, and if the history books were to be believed, the lover and wife of Neravar himself.

And so I entered the temple for the second time, and alone was lead by two high Ordinators to the large towering wooden doors that marked the entrance to the goddess' chamber. A soft humming could be heard coming from inside as the doors swung open, seemingly by themselves. I swallowed hard, puffed out my chest and walked in, hoping full glass armour would impress whoever I found inside. The chamber beyond was around with a high ceiling, six pillars in the centre stood from floor to ceiling, each with a High Ordinator at them. But none of that drew my attention.

"Come, bath in the light of my mercy." Amalexia was without a doubt, the most stunningly beautifully woman I had ever seen. And I spent a good few years working in Suran's most favourite stop. Her skin was place orange and her hair blood red, tattoos marked in ancient red ink ran over his skin and face. Her chest and legs were protected by a strange armour the likes of which I had never seen. It resembled Bone Mold, but shimmered in the light, it's surface as shiny as steal. Strapped across her back was one of the most famous swords in Tamriel. Hopesfire, the Dwemer blade of Elemental Lightning. It was one of the two blades presented to Neravar and his bride on their wedding day by the Dwemer king himself, Dumac. The blade was curved and blade and a blue light ran down it's length. Rat fell off my shoulder and onto the floor in her presence, bowing low. Her presence radiated tremendous power and I felt like an ant, even in my Glass Armour.

She floated to the floor and stood before me, leaving me speechless. "I've heard a lot about you , Dai-Sona of Summerset Isle." She added, putting a soft hand on my check. I felt all the blood rushing to me face. "You rid my city of the cursed Goblin Army with only two men by your side. You amaze even me."

"Thank you…" I managed in a tiny squeak. She goddess smiled and turned, her long followed red hair trailing out behind her, a soft almost addictive smell following her.

"There is another task which you can do in my service." She added, floating upwards like some stray cloud. "And if you desire it, I will compensate you for your efforts with Septim's Gold." When the word, Gold was mentioned, I regained my grip on reality. The goddess, it appeared had summoned him to talk business. "Vivec has informed me of a great Evil stirring at Red Mountain on the Island of Vvardenfell. The Ghost Gate begins to falter, and we fear for the Dumner people. Lord Dagoth grows ever stronger. Which I why I need you to retrieve an artefact that may aid us in our quest." She turned, hovering in the air to face me. "Centuries ago, in the city of Old Mournhold there lived a necromancer called Barilzar. It was he who first created the terrible Liches that roam the tunnels underneath the present city. I'm sure you've heard of them." I recalled Calvus telling me of such creatures, but as of then I had yet to encounter one. "Barilzar, before he disappeared into his family tomb never to be seen again, he created an item of unimaginable power. It was called, the Mazed Band. If Vivec, Sotha Sil and I are to fend of this great evil we need that ring." She clapped her hands and a scroll appeared between the fingers on her left hand. She handed it to me, revealing it to be a map of the tunnels underneath the city. An x marked where Barilzar's tomb lay. "I have already sent a party of my finest Ordinators down to retrieve the artefact. They have not been seen since, and I can no longer sense them. I fear they have failed me. Will you help me retrieve it?"

All my instincts were screaming at me to simply walk away, that it was far too dangerous and that I would do better leaving while I still had my head attached. So naturally I agreed without question. The goddess smiled gracefully at me and nodded once. "You will encounter a great number of Liches around the tomb of their creator. So to fend them of, I give you these artefacts." One of her servants approached with a soft silk pillow. There was three objects lying on them. One was a Glass Tower Shield enchanted with a spell that allowed it's user to teleport to the safety of a nearly Tribunal Temple at any time they wished. The second was an exclusive restore health position and the third, was a sword.

This sword was not unlike Hopesfire, made out of the same Dwemer material and curved in very much the same way her blade did. Unlike hers however, this sword did not glow with power. The swords name was engraved on the large hilt, in the ancient Dwemer language, yet for some reason, I discovered I was able to understand it. I knew the swords name.

"True Flame." I said to myself before reaching out and scraping the hilt. Even as I did so my vision blurred and I found my surrounds warp and bend around me. The cries of battle burned around me and I saw a legion upon legion of men in polish Dwemer armour marching away from towering structure in the distance. As they marched, I saw someone, I couldn't make out who, use a hammer and a short blade to cut the strings from a beating heart. Instantly this army shrivelled and died, turning into piles of black ash inside their armour.

Every around me disappeared in a white haze and I found myself now in the shadow of a giant. A colossal being, being constructed around the heart that had just been cut, the building overseen by a menacing figure in a golden mask. Then, as if nothing had happened, I was back in the Mournhold Temple once more.

"So you know of True Flame." Amalexia said sadly. "This sword belonged to my lover, Lord Indorial Neravar. It used to burn with power like mine, but after his death at Red Mountain the fires encircling the blade ceased to flow. Yet even without it's enchantments, the blade is a potent weapon. I lend it to you, so that you may complete your quest."

Looking back now, I feel idiotically stupid that I didn't smell a rat then and there, but I remained oblivious to the grand conspiracy that worked itself behind the veil of my sight and carried on as normal.

Through the sewers, alone I went with the dead True Flame at my sight, deeper and deeper, following the map she had given me. Down and down past the sewers and into Old Mournhold itself. By now, the Imperials had moved the Goblin army away and so I travelled on without much interference, holding the lamp I had borrowed from a guard to light my way. Then it happened. I met a Lich.

There were skeletons, wrapped in brown robes and as soon as this creature of the night spotted me, it began casting potent electrical bolts of Magicka at me. All of them were easy to dodge, but judging by what a single hit did to the wall behind me, those bolts were powerful enough to melt the flesh from my skull.

Saving True Flame, I tore my Dai-katana out at once and using some speed to get myself inside the Liches defences, I cut it down. I had encountered skeletons before in the tombs across Vvardenfell. These Liches were simply a spell casting type and with that in mind, I carried on.

The path the map lead me down lead me to a large iron door in the side of a tunnel. A large skull had been engraved in the outside surface to frighten off tomb thieves. It had been also welded up by powerful fire magicka from the inside. Apparently, when Barilzar fled to the grave, he did not want anyone following him. Over the centuries, the welding had rusted but someone had been here before me, as the door had already been kicked ajar.

The catacombs beyond were not as dark as the tunnels outside. A prosperous mushroom as growing out of every nook and granny, lighting it all in a magnificent green glow. I placed the lamp down and began to look around.

I soon learned exactly what had become of the Ordinators that Amalexia sent down here first. Their bodies were lying everywhere, their flesh torn into rags and their enchanted armour riped to pieces. High Indorial Armour was the strongest heavy Armour I knew of besides Deadric. Whatever had the power to do this was evidentially something I had to avoid if possible.

I entered the main chamber of the catacombs, finding more mushrooms and crumbling ruins. There were more bodies here too, fall piles up in a large heap. The dust on the floor had been disturbed too. This had been done recently. A large open coffin had been placed in the centre of the room. I advanced over to it, discovering a decaying corpse within. This had to be Barlizar. I turned away in disgust. While my back was turned, something must have been happening that I should have payed more attention to. I felt movement behind me and I snapped back.

"You have no place here, child of living flesh." And it was then that I saw him. The king of Liches himself, Barilzar. He was as every bit as hideous as Amalexia had described him. Little more than a skeleton, with decaying rags of flesh hanging on his bones. His jaw had long since fallen of, leaving a gaping hole where his mouth should be. The rusty remains of an ancient set of Royal Guard around was wrapped tightly around his limbs, the chest plate limply hanging out decaying straps. What was left of his hair was hanging onto his skill, parts of it falling out as he moved, to be replaced by more each second. A pair of glaring yellow eyes were staring out from the darkness at me and in all certain, I could say that I was afraid. Around a bony finger of that hand that clasped his Deadric Claymore was the ring I had been searching for, the Mazed Band itself. "The Mazed band will not be allowed to leave my tomb." The decaying creature added, leaping swiftly out of the coffin and landing on the floor of the tomb in front of me. "The band should never have existed at all. That was my folly." He stepped into the light of my amulet, revealing his full body, a hideous mixture of dead flesh and bone. I felt like I was honestly about to throw up. "And this is my curse. For all eternity I am damned to walk in this half life, to keep my creation from destroying the hearts and minds of mortals." Instantly both hands were on the hilt of his sword, welding it over his head as he swung down at me. I narrowly dodged the slice, side stepping as I drew my own blade. The sword the goddess had given me felt like in my hand and for some reason, I felt eager to see it in battle. "Those who challenge my fate…" Out blades clashed and I staggered backwards a few feet, before regaining myself and charging forward, my katana raised. The Lich blocked the blow. "Will pay with their lives!" He formed a orb of elemental lighting magicka between the fingers of his free hand and fired it at point blank range into my stomach, sending me flying across the room and straight into the side of the wall.

The impact knocked the breath out of me and I collapsed to be floor, struggling to regain myself. I looked up just in time to see the long dead necromancer stand over me, his sword held at the ready. "And so will you!" I brought True flame up, blocked in his blow and rolled to the side. Now ready for battle, the glass shield the goddess had given me finally became of some usage.

"I'm taking that band!" I stated, swinging True Flame down. I found the sword, even if it wasn't dead, to be extremely strong and swift, greatly exceeding the combat potential of my Dai-katana. I could only begin to imagine what it might have been capable off in the hands of Neravar.

* * *


	7. Mazed band of Barlizar part 2

(I do not own Morrowind or Tribunal)

* * *

He was known as Barlizar, king and creator of the Liche menace. Centuries ago he fled into his family crypt with his greatest creation, the Mazed band. The band processed such power that thieves and powerful war lords from all across Morrowind attempted to steal it. Barlizar turned himself into one of his own undead creatures to fight them off, and once he was finished feasting on their brains, he sealed his tomb. The city around him collapsed and the doorway to his crypt lay hidden amongst the rubble of old Mournhold. There he and his brood remained undisturbed for centuries, until the Dumner Goddess Amalexia learned of the Mazed Bands existence, and the location of his tomb. Her most skilled high Ordinators mounted an attack, and Barlizar killed them off one by one. They were indeed powerful warriors, but their divine enchantments and training in the service of their lady did little to protect them as his blade carved through them all like a knife through parchment.

And now, before him stood another intruder demanding the Mazed Band from his finger, a golden high Elf in Glass Armour, wielding a peculiar weapon of Dwemer origin. Barlizar did not know from where this mortal obtained his course, and it was of little consequence. He would kill this one too.

* * *

Our blades clashed, and using True Flames' superior edge I shoved the Lich kign backwards. He stumbled and I thought I might have an advantage, until he twisted his body at an impossible angle, breaking several of his bones in the progress, righting himself to an easy, flip, handing a kick with his boot straight against my chin. As I fell to the ground, I could see his body healing itself. One moment his wounds had been there and the next they had all but disappeared.

Despite his ragged and weak appearance, he processed far greater physical strength then I did. But luckily, it seemed I had the edge of speed. His armour, despite having rusted for centuries, was heavier than mine, slowing his actions slightly. Glass armour provided a great deal of protection and weighed very little. The edges of our swords met once more and the power struggle began, each of us trying to out do the other. When it became clear to him that his Deadric Claymore could not compete with the edge of the True Flame, The king of the Liches changed tactics, leaping backwards, sheathing his sword across his back freeing both hands. Even before he touched the floor, orbs of powerful magicka were beginning to burn between his fingers. One burnt with fire and the other sparked with lighting. As the spells came hurtling through the air, instinctively I brought my shield up in front of me and it's enchantments repelled the attack, saving me from certain death.

Close range combat apparently my only option, I drew my blade and, while keeping my shield firmly in front, I charged. The King of Liches called forth his blade and we exchanged blows again. Despite being rusted beyond belief, his armour held out under by attacks and thankfully so did mine armour against his blows.

As our fight wore on, his blows became more frustrated and clumsy, anger clearly affecting his judgement. I used that to my advantage, turning his own rage against him as I predicted his every move, enraging him even more.

At one point however I grew careless and he got an arm through my defences, blasting my left shoulder pad with a fire Magicka blast, shattering it into shards. The pieces falling to the floor in a sprinkling of green rain. Glass armour was very expensive and at the moment I didn't have enough gold to afford another one. I didn't make the mistake of getting angry through; instead I tried to maintain a better defensive pattern so he didn't cost me any more money during the fight.

Somewhere along the line he realized that close range combat was not helping him to win, he slid across the floor to a distance. I knew I couldn't give him that advantage and charged.

Before I could get anywhere close however, the shadows seemed to come alive, blurring in front of me as several Liches manifested to protect their creator. Howling, they held their skeletal hands out in front of themselves and cast wave after wave of lighting at me. Again the shield saved my life, protecting me from damage against Magicka attacks. I couldn't afford to let any of them hit me. It was known knowledge that high elves, while they maintain the highest magicka skill of any race, were extremely vulnerable to all forms of Magika. Those bolts they were casting at me would cook my body alive.

"Leave this place while you still have your life." Barlizar cried at his Liches kept up their bombardment, their blasts reflecting off my shield. I stuck my head over the top of the glass shield to get a better look. Now I could see something very important. Barlizar had his hands outstretched. The bony fingers outlined by a yellow glow. I knew the characteristics of a summoning spell anywhere. He had summoned those Liches; they hadn't appeared of their own free will. To keep them here, he would to maintain his concentration. I reached into my side bag and withdrew several of the glass throwing knives I had purchased some time before. I knew that I was certain better at long blade combat then Marksman, but I had little to work with.

The right moment present itself and I rolled, confusing them just long enough to cast the knives through the air, kitting Barlizar in both eyes and straight in the centre of his forehead. The king of Liches screamed, clutching his hands to his head, wrenching the blades out of his ruined eyes. As he did so, the Liches he had conjured shrank into the shadows again. As his eyes began to heal, I took the opportunity to run in close, slicing him across the chest with True Flame and as he staggered, swung the blade down and severed both hands. She screamed again as fell back to the floor, convulsing.

His hands lay on the floor before me, twitching now they were separated from their body. I reached down and took the Mazed Band from their fingers. In the faint light of the mushrooms, I examined the ring. It did not appear special; in fact it looked a lot like any ordinary ring that could be purchased at a clothier. The only way I could tell it was the one I was looking for was the symbol engraved on the side that matched the description Amalexia had given me.

So caught up, I didn't notice the two hands right themselves sup before flying through the air and smashing a fist into my face, sending me flat on my back.

"I'll not fail now!" Barlizar cried as his hands re-attached themselves with a sickening crack. "GIVE ME MY BAND!" He screamed, drawing his Claymore. True Flame was put up, blocking his swing as he tried to split my head in half. I drew a leg back and kicked him against his groin, sending him stumbling backwards. As he staggered I flew to my feet and before I even knew what I was doing, I felt True Flames blade sink itself straight through Barlizar's chest. The king of Liches gagged, struggling as the sword flew through him, its tip emerging out his back. A thick black ooze began secreting out from the wound. His fingers lost their grip and his sword fell to the ground with a loud clash. After a moment of struggling, he fell limp on the blade and I retracted my weapon, letting his body fall to the ground.

Amazing, the king of Liches was still alive, but just barley. His wounds were healing, but not fast enough to sae him. I could see the life fading from his eyes at this very moment. The most merciful thing, I thought I could do at that point would be to put him out of his misery. I raised True flame.

* * *

"Voryn Dagoth."

"The profane tools."

"The Dwemer and their king, Dumac."

"Sixth House."

"Tribunal's Seduction."

"Gift and Token given."

The blade I gripped began burning with elemental fire and whispers from the darkness began floating unbidden in and out of my head. My eyes opened to a world and a history I never knew existed within me. I saw a ring, and upon this ring was a Moon and a Star. This ring lay on the hand of a figure that stepped through the light towards me, clasping a burning True Flame in his hand. Beside him was a female figure with the blue Hopes Fire at her side. The light coming from behind them was too bright, I couldn't make out their faces. Before I could get closer, they vanished and I found myself overlooking a large Deadric style temple with a statue of Azura, the lady of Dusk and Dawn towering over it all. I heard a scream coming from inside and everything blurred again. Time seemed to pass in an instant and again I saw Morrowind on the verge of a war they could not possibly hope to win. Along the borders of the Dark Elves land were massing armies of Imperial Troops. Then it all faded as a figure emerged, one half of him golden and the other silver, declaring peace and as he did so, I saw dozens of imperial Garrisons appear all over Morrowind and in the distance, Red Mountain growled in fierce defiance.

And then, like I had never left, I found myself standing above the defeated Barlizar, the glow that had suddenly emerged from the sword bathing the ruined creature in its light. I'd expected the fire to destroy him, but instead it seemed to make his wounds heal faster then they were. The sword was saving him.

I jerked the blade away and the light died away, the fire disappearing. At that moment, I had no idea what was happening to me. These visions that dogged me were driving me insane. What did they mean and why wouldn't they leave me alone? Barlizar lay there, unmoving, yet most certainly still alive. If I had been one of Amalexia's Ordinators, I wouldn't have hesitated. I would have finished the job I started and destroyed him. However, I am not an Ordinator and did not have the lack of morals to kill an unarmed opponent. I looked down at the right in my hand.

Besides, I had what I wanted; there wasn't any need to fight anymore. I looked down towards him one last time and began to pity the soul. He had created an artefact that proved beyond his control and for that, he condemned himself to an immortality devoid of life and feeling, just to ensure that the Band did not do any harm. I only hoped Amalexia would be able to ensure that the ring did not fall into the wrong hands.

How naïve I was back then.

* * *

He was known as Barlizar, king and creator of the Liche menace. Centuries ago he fled into his family crypt with his greatest creation, the Mazed band. And now, that band had been stolen. He had failed in his duty. He watched in contempt as the high Elven thief disappeared into the midst of an Intervention Spell. But that would not last long. With eyes burning in red rage, and iron glad determination in his ancient body, he swore that the Mazed band would once again be where it belongs, deep underground, locked away from those who would misuse it's power.

(R&R)


	8. The Seige of Mournhold

(I do not own Morrowind..etc.)

* * *

I was woken by the loud, irritating drunken snores crossing my room. Calvus had gotten himself completely pissed on Nordic mead again and had passed out on spare bed in my temporary residence in the Winged Guar Tavern. He had a tendency to drink in large amounts, but when he was sober he was an excellent mercenary fighter and a good conversationalist, as long as discussions didn't drift towards who paid for the drinks. The drunken mercenary was still clad in his Nordic mail armour, which meant he'd been impressing some ladies with it the night before. I felt exceptionally irritated as his snores had just woken me up from a dream inspired by the presence of Amalexia I had endured the day before. The goddess had been exceptionally grateful when I returned to her temple with the Mazed band in hand. She told me I had done her and the Tribunal a great surface and her servants rewarded me with Ten thousand gold, then she kissed me on the cheek. That inspired a pretty vivid dream.

My sight was drawn to the sword on the bedside table. Along with the money, she insisted that I keep the blade True Flame, as she said that she saw something in me that reminded her of her old lover, Lord Indorial Neravar. Looking back now, I see the whole irony of the statement, but I'm getting ahead of myself. The sword was the strongest blade I had ever seen, it's serrated edge curved so perfectly that few swords could match it for strength and speed. The entire weapon made of a material I had never seen before, not even in Dwemer ruins.

I roused, scratching the back of my head and yawning. The early morning light coming in through the half closed curtains on the window behind the sleeping mercenary. Today I had been in Mournhold for over a mouth and still I was no closer to my audience with Helseth, to discover why exactly he ordered Dark Brotherhood assassins to try and kill me. The captain of the royal guard, Tienius said that he was working on it, but I doubted his word.

I thought today I would go down the Great Bazaar to see if any of the traders I had become friendly with had any new produce in stock. I was in the process of pulling on my Glass Boots when a deafening smashing sound shook the room, the windows rattled and a half empty glass of mead fell over, staining the carpet. Calvus jerked awake and fell off the spare bed and onto the floor. It felt as if the entire city had been dealt a savage blow as the ground shook violently for a few moments. Rat, who had been sleeping on the floor squeaked cowardly and disappeared under the bed. Raging mechanical screens escaped into the air from outside the window, thousands of synthesised shrieks filling the streets. One minute there had been considerate peace, and then chaos erupted outside. The entire Inn seemed to wake up at that point, angry cries coming from the other residents.

"Wha…'ll…com''time it is…." Calvus barrelled, still half sleep and half drunk and not a single percent of himself n his right mind. I raced to the window outside and looked outside to see. Both High Ordinators and Royal Guards were running masses through the streets, their weapons already drawn as they all frantically shouted instructions to those following them. The sounds of battle, of metal clashing against metal was vibrated off in the horizon. There was a sudden shout of exclamation and they all stopped, raising their blades and charging together at something just beyond my line of sight. And that's when I saw one of them, for the first time.

This lizard like creature raced in, swifter than any animal I had ever seen, using it's long neck and the giant norn on the edge of it's nose to impale several Royal Guards at once, their limp corpses cast high into the air. It was both the most terrible and fascinating creature I had ever seen in my life. It resembled a large lizard, larger in fact then most High elves. It was slim with grey skin, large black streaks marking it's back. Metallic quills lancing out of it's back and along it's tail, which seemed to be segmented by machinery beyond Dwemer construction. The High Ordinators attacked the creature, using their enchanted scimitars to land a powerful blow on it's left side. The beast shrieked, before it's tail whipped around, batting them aside like flies. Another of those things came racing around the corner of the street, shrieked once before leaping into the air, pinning two Royal guards and an Ordinator underneath it's large feet and before they could struggle, tore into them with it's teeth and horn.

I reacted without even thinking. I grabbed the rest of my armour and donned it in an instant, True Flame already in my grasp.

"UP!" I shouted at Calvus, taking the glass of water on my bed side table and clashing it's contents in his face. I didn't wait around to hear his cursing reaction, I placed my glass helm upon my head and was racing our the door into the corridor beyond, heading for the stairs. There were sudden shrieks and several Wood Elves came hurtling up the stairs, followed closely by another creature, similar to the others in that it had it's limbs and skin replaced mostly by advanced machinery beyond my understanding, but this one was far slower. Moving like a scorpion, it heaved it's self up the stairs, wielding the large hook on it's tail dangerously, it's fangs snapping at me as it charged. I held True Flame ready by before the creature reached me, there was a suddenly whooshing sound as bolt passed through the air and the beast hit the foot, a silver bolt embedded in the back of it's head. Tallax, my Dumner friend with a steal cross bow in hand stood there, his weapon pointed down at the creature.

"These things are everywhere." He stated and I saw the bloody gash on his left arm, staining his shirt. "I'll be fine." He added when he noticed me staring. "The guards are trying to fend them off, but there are just so many of them. They came from underneath the ground, near the statue in the Plaza, their flooding into the city." There was a sudden load stumbling sound and we both turned, weapons at the ready, but it was only Calvus stumbling out of the room, rubbing his matted hair in confusion.

"What the bloody Oblivion is going on?" He demanded, remembering how to speak decent Tamrielic.

"The city is under attack ya Drunk." Tallax snarled, putting away his crossbow. "We have to.." He cringed, holding his arm to his wound.

"We'll be doing nothing." I stated, my tone giving no room for argument. "You'll be resting here while Calvus and I deal with it." The Dumner poet looked up at me defiantly.

"There are far too many." He snarled.

"What in Talos' name is that!?" Calvus demanded, pointed directly at the slain creature.

"Don't know." I replied. "But their infecting the city. Now earn your pay and let's go!" Tallax didn't like it, but he'd been injured too badly to help us, if anything he'd just be a liability. He agreed to stay behind and guard the tavern while we ventured outside. Seeing the body of a dead guard lying just outside the entrance to the Winged Guar, my mercenary sobered up a bit more. Bodies of Ordinators and Royal guard were strewn everywhere, huge holes punches and sliced in their formidable armour. Most of the street lamps had been knocked over, their flames spreading over the ground. Through the streets, panicking people ran in terrified crowds, desperately pushing against one another to get away from the metallic shrieking. A few buildings away I could see one of the lizard like things I had seen earlier feasting on the corpse of an Argonian who had been extremely unfortunate, tearing huge chunks of steaming meat off with it's horn before gulping them down with it's long neck.

"By Mara's grace. Akatosh protect us." Calvus gasped at the horror. I certainly hoped the Dragon of Time was on our side. We could certainly use his help about now.

The creature sniffed the air and looked up straight at us, it's teeth red with hot blood. It shrieked at us, before leaving his victim and charged straight at what it believed was fresh prey.

What it found was the deadly edge of True Flame as I swung the sword up, impaling the creature directly through it's gaping mouth. it's cries died away and it staggered backwards, bleeding from it's mouth. Calvus brought his claymore around, slicing it across the knees, fatally wounding it before quickly going in and driving his blade through it's chest. As the creature fell, another two came out from between two houses. One was another of the lizards, while the other resembled that scorpion thing we left in the Winged Guar. We quickly learned the difference between the two of them. One was built for speed and the other for strength. Using that knowledge to our advantage, we fought our away through them occasionally aided by a few Royal Guards and Ordinators that had survived. Godsreach was infested with them, and by the shrieks and blood curling cries, so was half the city.

"They;re holding their own up at the Great Bazaar." A Royal Guard told me when we found him and his injured party resting outside the large wooden door that marked the entrance to the Plaza. "But it's not going so well in the Plaza. There's a sea of those things in there. Amalexia sent in her Hands to help us, but we need more help. You two are armed, go help the defences." The famous Siege of Mournhold, now a famous part of Morrowind's history, was chronicled at the time by an Imperial Scribe by the name of Artimus Calritus. In his description , he described how hordes of creatures of metal and flesh fell upon the city in their thousands, forming an endless sea. An army that threatened to wash away Mournhold itself. Now let me assure you, he was not using artistic licence.

The scene that met us when we arrived was horrendous. The entire Plaza was in ruins, the giant green houses that towered over head had been torn down countless creatures that the guards and Ordinators were desperately trying to fend off, loosing more and more ground and more and more of their number as those creatures they killed were replaced by more of them. Those gardeners that had not been able to escape were cowering in the floor beds trying their best not to attract attention. The hands of Amalexia were powerful Ordinators, but even they could not prevail under the strains. There were simply too many of them. But it seemed that they aid.

A large mechanical, humanoid shape lumbered forward from between the shattered remains of two green houses, one of it's large arms raised with a large ball covering in spikes on the end of it. It was a Dwemer Centurion, but larger than average, with several limbs attached onto it.

"4:5?" I asked, recognising the robot from seeing him compete at the Robot Arena in Godsreach. The large mechanical man shot past me and smashed it's gargantuan fist into a creature that had broken off from the main ground, charging straight at us.

"Watch your back Altmer!" I spotted Amila some distance away, clad I her Netch Armour and armed with a Chitin Dagger, using her weapon to carve a hole in one of the large Scorpion like creatures. "I've seen these things eat an Ordinator whole." With the large robotic centurion fighting for us, we rushed to the aid of the defends, helping to drive back the beasts, forcing their seemingly endless numbers away. One by one they fell, but more seemed to arrive and then I saw from what. They had come up through the ground just like Tallax had said, demolishing the Statue of Amalexia fighting Mehrunes Dagon in the process. More of them than he could count were streaming out of it, like ants from an ant hill. The inevitable happened, and their numbers overwhelmed us and the Royal Guard was forced to make a retreat, a large number of their group falling as the lizard like creatures charged after them. The Ordinators tried to hold their own, but when half their number were torn to shreds, even they knew when they had been beaten. The enhanced centurion 4:5 was a great asset, leaving squashed corpse of the creatures as it thought, but even he couldn't keep it up forever. Tallax had been right, there was simply too many.

Amila yelped as a head butt from one of them knocked her to the ground and before she could get up, it pinned to the ground. I tried to race over to help her, but another leapt on me from behind. I was still falling when it happened. Everything faded away again and I found myself in a white void, devoid of anything, not even an horizon. I couldn't even feel the creature on my back. In this void, I was not alone. Standing before me was a man, but off a race that was alien to me. His skin appeared to be Altmer, yet he was far shorter with the common height of a Dumner. His skin was tattooed very much like Amalexia's yet coloured blue instead of red. His hair was raven black and long, tied back into a pony tail behind him. He wore a strange verity of Dwemer armour on his legs and arms, leaving his well built chest exposed.

"Do you remember the promises we made?" He asked, opening his eyes. I stared, memories of the Ashlander Ashkhans and the promises, I…or some one made of them, swearing on the power of a ring. "We have not fulfilled them yet. We have much work to do." Suddenly. I knew his name. I couldn't explain how, I just did.

"Neravar." I stated and he smiled, outstretching a hand towards me.

"Dai-Sona." He replied. "One and the same." I took his hand and the fires of True Flame soured to life, burning with power the likes of which I had never felt. The creatures shrank away from the light the sword radiated, unable to bear it's intensity. The creature preparing to rip Amila apart was the first to die as I plunged it through it's stomach, ripping it apart with ease. She stared up at me in amazement as I slashed away at the hordes by myself, sending them back to Oblivion with each swipe. Those Royal Guards and Ordinators still in the area turned to stare in amazement at the power of the blade as I raised True Flame one last time and slammed it into the ground, pillars of fire erupting like geysers, burning the creatures to cinders. With one large slash, the last of them fell, scorched into cinders.

True Flame now burned with it's past power now that it sensed it was back in the hands of it's true wielder. I have no rational explanation for what happened, perhaps a moment of destiny or perhaps I merged with Neravar by some miraculous coincidence. Theories for that have been the speculation of conversations across most of the Morrowind. Personally, I try not to think about it.

"Dai-Sona…" Calvus began slowly, as he approached warily. "How did you do that?" I blinked and looked down at the sword in my hand, it's metal blade bathed in golden fire. I couldn't answer Calvus' question, because I honestly didn't know.

* * *

(R&R) 


	9. The City State King

(I do not own Sonic X, R etc…)

* * *

"Fabricants." Dilboran, the Argonian mage stated as he studied the corpse of one of the creatures that the Royal Guards had dragged up to his shop. It was one of the few bodies of those creatures still intact. Most of the others had been carved up pretty badly by the Ordinators. King Helseth, present ruler of Mournhold stood nearby, watching the mage as he carefully dissected the corpse. He was a tall Dumner with a short beard and thin black hair, a tiara crown placed upon his forehead. His robe was embroidered with the finest golden threads that money could by. I kept my eyes on him, I had waited a long time to have a chat with this man and I was not about to let him slip away from me now. "I've only seen these creatures once before, my master showed my a small one when I was his apprentice. They were species of animal that existed eons ago, but died out during some ancient calamity." He directed the attention of all those present to the metallic implants in the creature. "These devices are keeping the creature alive, even past it's own death. I can tell you just by looking at them, that this technology is beyond anything presently known, even the Dwemer couldn't create something this precise." The siege these creatures had put under Mournhold had ended two days ago, and still the entire city was in chaos and disarray. From the nearest Imperial fort, soldiers had been dispatched to help defend the city against possible attacks. There were still a few of these, Fabricants running around and they wanted to stop them before anyone else got hurt. The Imperial cult had also sent a good number of healers to help the temple cope with the sheer amount of wounded guards and civilians that the attack had produced. There were also reports of a large bandit army in the area, who would love nothing more than to take

I couldn't go anywhere without being hailed as a hero for being the one who defeated the mass horde of creatures single handily, using the indescribably power of True Flame to hack them down. Egeserated stories carried by merchants who were leaving the city was quickly spreading across Morrowind and according to the latest reports, even the distant Vvardenfell had heard of it. Luckily, no one had realized it was the legendary blade True Flame that I wielded, so I was able to escape unnecessary persecution from the Tribunal Temple. I shuddered to think what the Ordinators would do if they discovered I was able to use the sword of their most holy saint. Still, I was perfectly aware that sooner or later someone was going to put two and two together. At that time of course, I would have to speak with Amalexia.

"I can tell you now sire." The Imperial General who had lead the reserve troops from the nearby garrisons began. "No Imperial Solider has ever seen the like." Helseth grunted in annoyance and folded his arms.

"Nor do have in any of our attacks on Deadric shrines, encountered such vile beasts." The Ordinator representing the Temple at this emergency meeting. Helseth had called all representatives from the different factions here to discus what must be done to ensure the

"I know of extensive Dwemer Ruins buried under Old Mournhold." The king stated slowly. "But if these creatures are not Constructs of the Dwarves, then I doubt we'll find the answer there. The only question to answer is who has access to such advanced technology, besides the Dwemer, to create such beasts?" He paused, placing a hand on his chin and pacing the length of the throne room impatiently. "Captain." He began finally and Tienius Delitian saluted, standing firmly to attention. "I want you to talk to the enchanters and historians to see if…" He was cut off when a Breton runner came bursting in through the large doors at the end of the throne room, darting between too Royal Guards before they could stop him.

"My Liege!" He gasped, pausing to catch his breath. "It's not just Mournhold. Necrom, BlackWatch, Ald'Ruhn, Fire Watch, Port Telvanis, they've all come under attack." By the stunned look on Helseth's face, it looked like he'd nearly had a heart attack. "I bring a message from General Carilus Parkius of BlackLight garrison." The runner added, reaching into his pocket and withdrawing a piece of paper. Helseth snatched it up and began reading out load for the sake of those present.

"City over run with Strange, mechanical creature of unknown origin. Our soilders are holding them at bay, but they are also accompanied by other beings that intelligence believe to be creatures and members of…" He paused, his eyes widened. Perspiration began running down his forehead and his hands began to tremble. "The…Sixth House."

Everyone knew of the present five houses of Dumner Society. House Hhaalu, House Redoran, House Telvanni, House Dres and House Indorial. Yet only dedicated historians knew about the Sixth house, House Dagoth, that in the days of Indorial Neravar betrayed the Dark Elven People in some fierce battle and were destroyed for their treason. Their leader Lord Voryn Dagoth was banished behind the GhostFence forever and has been the source of all Evil that threatens Morrowind, according to the words of the Tribunal Temple anyway.

In recent years, amongst various Deadric cults, a new sect of House Dagoth had been stirring. The Temple Ordinators had tried to wipe it out, but no matter how hard they tried, this new cult refused to die. In fact, it only got stronger and stronger and then all of a sudden these strange creatures start turning up, always in a Blight Storm. They moved like undead monstrosities, yet they spoke with intelligence in their voices. They called themselves Ash Vampires. Unlike their western cousins, these vampires did not require a blood sacrifice, nor did they burn at the suns rays. The fact that these new, mechanical creatures were attacking cities across Morrowind along with Sixth House forces could mean only one thing. Lord Dagoth, the devil of Red Mountain was ready to make his move. The only thing holding the full horror of the blight away from the Dumner was the Ghost Fence itself, maintained by the collective energy of the Tribunal gods, Vivec, Amalexia and Sotha Sil. This terrified the Dumner king even more, as it meant that the forces of Red Mountain could move outside the Ghost Fence and that his city, so far away from Vvardenfell, was not safe from their wrath.

"Forget about information. Not a word of this is to be told to the general public, it could start a panic." He snapped suddenly , trying to regain his demeanour. "I need to have Mournhold and the surrounding towns secure from attack. Tienius, get going. Do what ever is necessary to protect my people. " The captain nodded, gestured to his the two Royal Guards behind him and they left. "Ordinator, I suppose that Amalexia herself will protect you and the temple?" The Ordinator remained stationary but I could tell he was narrowing his eyes behind his masked helm.

"Of course." He stated without a find of uncertainty in hic voice, before he left as well, refusing to wait for the king to dismiss him.

"Dai-Sona." I was caught up in my own thoughts for a moment and I didn't catch the kings words until he had to repeat himself. "Excuse me." I blinked and looked up. I found the kings stead fast face right in front of me. "I'd like to have a word with you, privately." The king lead me to Tienius' office, two Royal guards crossed to follow us, by Helseth raised his hand and stopped them, leaving the two of use alone to have that long overdue chat. There was a moment of silence as the king seized me up, walking around me to what he could make of the high Elf with glass armour and a burning sword strapped across his back. At True Flame he stared long and hard, trying to make something of the stranger weapon. "If you haven't noticed, I'm dealing with something of a crisis at the moment, so I'll make this quick." I folded my arms and tapped my foot. "I'm not a religious Elf, if I was, I'd be reporting you to the temple for using the sword of Neravar, which is a sacred blade. I don't know how you got it to burn with it's old power and I suspect neither do you, so I have a sneaking suspicion I know what that means." He gave me a long, sceptical glance. "In any case, that's not important. I still owe you an apology for that…misunderstanding." I narrowed my eyes at him.

"That misunderstanding nearly killed me." I could still remember quite vividly, waking up in time to see a Dark Brotherhood assassin standing over my bed with a Deadric Tanto held at the ready.

"Yes well." Helseth began patiently. "The Dark Brotherhood do have their uses, if the need is dire. I was presented with information by my intelligence service that you possessed a significant risk to my line." My eyes widened.

"I didn't have any intention of coming to Mournhold until your assassination attempt."

"Merely a mistake. I bear you no ill will, how can I after you saved my people and my city from complete destruction?" I was so used to blending in with the background like any good rouge, It felt unnatural to stand out as the saviour of Mournhold. Everywhere I went I was being praised as the great hero that saved them from the Fabricant menace and the flaming sword I carried quickly becoming the stuff of legend. "So, I'm sorry if I caused you any inconvenience." I was about to reply when the door to the office opened and Tallax quickly hurried in, shutting the door behind him. The Dumner poet had had his wound treated by one of the healers at the temple, a large white band wrapped around his upper right arm. "Ah Tallax, good to see your alright." Tallax bowed respectfully. "I take it you know Tallax Dai-Sona, I had him keep an eye on you after my captain reported your presence in the city." I widened my eyes at stared at my old friend, who simply replied with a vague shrug.

"Sorry Dai-Sona. It was no coincidence I was here, King Helseth asked me to follow you around."

"I thought you knew me better than that." I stated with a hint of annoyance in my voice. I knew Tallax was a bit of a scoundrel, but this was first fast one he'd pulled on me.

"I do. But I'm a royal agent, I do what I'm told, it's nothing personal. Still friends aren't we?"

"I'll have a talk with you when we get back to the Winged Guar." I replied in a false, stern voice keeping my eyes level with his before turning back to the king. "From just where did your agents pick up this information?" The king walked around the table and sat in the chair.

"From various sources within the Tribunal Temple in Vvardefenfell. According to this report…" He stated, reaching into the desk and withdrawing a few sheets of paper. "You've been under close scrutiny by the temple since you arrived, a good few years ago yes. Let me see." He paused to flip through the sheets. "Arrived in Seyda Neen port six years ago, an Imperial Captain by the name of Sellus Gravius signed the release papers." He stopped, licked his thumb and turned the page. "Joined the Theives Guild two mouths after, and then the East Empire Company. Seems you got into a spot of trouble with the Telvanni in Sadrith Mora." He looked up smugly. "It looks like Vivec's Ordinators were keeping a very close eye on you." I said nothing. It had just been revealed to me that ever since I stepped foot on Vvardenfell, I had been under the Tribunal Temple's scrutiny. "Apparently they were considering you a potential threat, probably more than the Sixth House itself. Maybe even a threat to the safety of Morrowind itself. " That made no sense at all at the time. I had never so much as spoken to a member of the Tribunal temple. Well, there was that piece of unpleasantness in Vivec Foreign Quarter but that hardly warranted that kind of attention Helseth was implying. "So with that big a danger implied, I thought it safe to have you…shall we say, removed. No offence."

"None taken." The king rubbed and hands together and stood up, now he seemed satisfied that he had explained all that he could to me. I on the other hand still had questions to answer, for example why I was so feared by the Temple and why I could wield the sword of Neravar and it's power. "So now let's get back to the business of defence." Leaving the office, the three of just re-entered the throne room to meet those who had gathered for the emergency meeting. Everyone grew silent as the king crossed over to the throne and sat down in it.

"While defence against possible further attacks in our primary concern, the origin of these mechanical Fabricants must be determined. As such… I ask for a volunteer to approach the Temple and more specifically the goddess Amalexia, for if anyone can tell us the truth, she can." There a brief moment of murmuring conversation amongst the mages and Imperial officials and the Royal Guards standing around the walls cast each other some sceptical glance. No one volunteered and I sighed, realizing that sooner or later I'd end up talking to Amalexia so it was best to get it over with quickly. I raised my hand. "I thank you Dai-Sona of Summerset Isle for being so forthright and thoughtful response. Then I shall relinquish this responsibly to you." By the relieved sighs around the room, I could tell I had let quite a lot of people present off the hook.

"I think your mind has been affected in some way." Calvus remarked as the two of us marched towards the temple. This northern part of the city was the least affected. In fact, the Ordinators had abandoned other parts of the Bazaar to defend it during the siege, leaving the Royal Guards alone to defend those people still fleeing for their lives.

"I'm inclined to agree with you." He said in agreement, staring up at the sea shell shaped temple, glowing a soft white in the soft light of the early morning.

(R&R)


	10. Amalexia's revalation

(I do not own elder scrolls etc.)

* * *

It felt strangely satisfying to intimidate the Ordinators simply by walking past them. I could see their momentary twinge at the sight of TrueFlame burning across my back. They had seen first hand the kind of power this sword could unleash and they were terrified of it. Gavos Drin, the Dumner who had offered me the bounty for destroying the Goblin army, greeted Calvus and I as we stepped through the large front gates of the temple. He said nothing, but gestured for us to follow him. 

The temple was ridden with the injured who had survived the attack on the city. There were so many that the temple infirmary didn't have room for them all. Some were being treated outside in the entrance lobby. A few of those unfortunate people had even lost limbs, the foul stench of blood in the air. The healers were doing all they could to tend to the wounds and prevent the spread of disease, but by the look of some it may have gone past that point already.

The Imperials had tried several times to sent in their own healers into the temple itself, but they had been sent away again and again by the Ordinators who refused to let Outlander heretics of the Nine Divines into their sacred building. So they had been forced to set themselves up in the grounds outside. Like I said before, it felt satisfying to intimidate Ordinators.

The large doors to the goddess' private chamber swung open and I was accepted once more into her company. Evidentially, she had been expecting me. He was hovering in the air near the ceiling with her back to me, her arms were crossed. When True Flame entered the room, the glow of her sword HopesFire seemed to dance in joyous reunion. Upon my arrival, her hands filed out of the room one by one. I guessed she had ordered them that she and I needed to talk alone. I gestured with my head to Calvus and he nodded, before retracing his steps out the door. As her servants shut the chamber, sealing us inside she turned to face me. The look on her face did not betray her thoughts but I got the distinct impression of annoyance in her eyes. Slowly she floated down until the tips of her toes nearly touched the floor.

There was a brief, unnerving moment of silence before she reached behind her back and withdrew Hopesfire. The blue lightning encircling the blade buzzed with anticipation. I was confused at first, before something inside told me that this was not a challenge but rather a test. Cautiously I drew True Flame and held it front of me. With a slight jab the goddess caused the two swords to touch. Their elemental powers connected and a bright white light filled the room momentarily before I jerked the sword away.

I had expected the goddess reaction to be outrage. But instead, she simply smiled and sheathed her blade across her back. Before knew what was happening, she threw herself across the distance between us, wrapping her arms around me. I was about to say something but whatever I had ready to say was drown as she pressed her lips against mine. I had kissed many women before, but none of them were literally goddess', although some had come pretty close in beauty before.

"Oh Neravar, I've missed you so much." She whispered into my ear and I could feel heavy hot tears drip onto my neck.

"I am not Neravar." I stated, reluctantly pushed her back. "I am Dai-Sona of SummerSet Isle."

"For the moment still perhaps," She replied without loosing her smile. "But you seem less and less like a high elf with each passing moment." She pointed at my exposed shoulder and I cast it a glance. To my astonishment, I found a tattoo there. Some sort of Deadric lines that spread over the shoulder and down my arm, drawn in blue ink. I had absolutely no idea where it had come from. It was then that I also noticed I had become strangely more muscular. I was battle hardened, but this amount of muscle for a High Elf was unnatural. As a race were are a thin, tall people. Even a high elf who body built all his life couldn't hope to have this must muscle, it was completely impossible for our race. "I was there when my lover had this done." She added gracefully, trailing her hand over my shoulder, admiring the lines. "Deny it all you want Dai-Sona, you are my lover, reborn. You are the Neravrine." I cursed and stared down at the floor despite of myself. "It's nothing to be ashamed of." She continued, letting her arms hang around my neck. "In fact it's a great honour, you are the saviour of the Dumner people."

"Destined to drive the Empire from Morrowind." I added spitefully. I knew what the Neravrine was called to do. I had heard the legends, myths and rumours circulating Vvardenfell. It wasn't just the Empire the reborn Neravar was supposed to drive out. It was Outlanders in general. My own people. Amalexia smiled gracefully.

"Maybe someday." She replied. "But for the moment, we have more immediate concerns." Reluctantly she let go of me and hovered over to a stone pedestal at the back of her chamber, on top of where several parchments and rolled up pieces of paper. "The Creatures that beset my city now ravage Morrowind, supported by the vile servants of House Dagoth. Yet despite this, it is plainly obvious that these Fabricants are not summoning of Dagoth Ur." Her will excreted on the world around us and a parchment floated up and flew to my hand. "I will probe the divine dream world to discover the origin of these beasts. While I do, I will need you to defend my city against a most heinous conspiracy." I raised an eyebrow, before looking at the parchment. He was a record of a suicide carried out in the GodsReach area of Mournhold. The victim was a young dark elf called Sevil, who had been found slain by his own hand. "After the attack, a dangerous cult who call themselves the End of times have infected my city. Information extracted by those taken alive is that they believe that the time of the Tribunal is over and soon the gates of Oblivion will open, swallowing all the land. To ensure they do not suffer this, they kill themselves in ritual suicides called, the Cleansing." I made a horrified face.

"That's disgusting." I replied in revolution not even Deadric cultists resulted to such barbarism.

"And ridiculous. But I fear their beliefs have been orchestrated by a Sixth House presence." I blinked.

"Here?" The Sixth House had been simply confined to Vvardenferll, but it seemed that now during the utter confusion and Chaos they were taking advantage of the situation and spreading to Morrowind itself.

"Dagoth's Ur's plans are well in effect, and you may be called some time soon to defend our people." I paused, before snarling and clenching a fist around the parchment. I didn't want to believe in all of this, but I was given little option. I was changing into something that was obviously not High Eleven, strange creatures and deformed monsters were tearing Morrowind apart and I was supposed to be at the heart of it all. I didn't want this, I just wanted to go back to the way things were only two months ago. I just wanted to be Dai-Sona, the charismatic rouge I was as. I felt helpless, my destiny no longer in my own hands.

"I make my own fate." I replied in anger, trying to hold onto whatever part of Dai-Sona remained, turning to point directly at her. "I couldn't care less about whatever power struggle is going on between the Tribunal and Dagoth Ur. Destroy each other if you must, doesn't matter to me." A disapproving look crossed her face. "But innocent people are being caught in the cross fire and those I do care about." He paused, suddenly realizing what I had just said. That actually sounded heroic; hardly anything what Dai-Sona would say. He was a rouge, a self serving elf with little respect for those around him. Honourable, but a scoundrel all the same. He would never deliberately put himself in the line of fire, never. A grin crossed the goddess' face.

"Then go Dai-Sona of Summerset Isle." She stated slowly. "Go and find the cancer that threatens my people, find the Sixth House vermin in my city and exterminate them." I don't actually remember if I replied to that or not. The next thing I recall is standing outside the temple with my fists shaking in rage. I stood there as the sun began to rise, silently fuming.

Calvus opened his mouth to say something, thought better of it and just his lips. Returning to the Winged Guar, I was greeted by cheers by those who had gathered there, seeking shelter in the popular tavern. At the sight o the flaming sword strapped across my back, the crowded Inn burst into celebration, everyone within five feet ordering me a drink, Calvus gladly accepting them for me. I simply went to my room with Rat following closely behind. I shut the door, gently muffling the cheers, sat on the bed and remained there for hours. My life had radically changed within the space of a few months. I put me hand over the enhanced muscle and tattoo on my left shoulder. The patterns of the tattoos were Deadric like I'd first thought, but not anything like the evil patterns out in various shrines across Morrowind. These were those dedicated to the good Deadra Azura. I recognised the recent moon symbol near my chest. I noticed another change to me as well, my golden skin was slightly paler.

"OI, Mind it you gits!" A sharp, high pitched voice shouted angrily and without warning the door to my room opened. To my surprise, a Scamp hurried in. For those of readers who are unfamiliar with Deadric servants, a Scamp is a creature created in Oblivion. They are considered quite harmless by most spell casters, although they have been known to reek havoc on unprepared households. "I had to walk all the way from Caldera to get here so you'd better be him." He snarled angrily, folding his arms. "Are you Dai-Sona?" He asked, scratching himself behind his large ears with his tail. I nodded slowly. Grumbling, he reached into his shabby short pair of brown pants and withdrew a note. As he handed it to me, he spied Calvus' half empty tankard of Nordic mead on the bed side table. "Cor, I'm parched." Without asking permission, he snatched it up and down it all. As he drank, I glanced over the letter he had handed me.

There was very little in the way of writing on it, most of the paper was taken up with a large symbol, a moon and a Star. I had never seen this symbol before, yet somehow it seemed familiar. I raced the outside edge of it with a finger, a sudden feeling importance and sanctity whelming up in me.

"Dai-Sona of Summerset Isle." I said quietly, reading the let out load. "You are being mislead, your life may be in great danger. If you wish to learn more come to the Robot Arena the night after this letter reaches you." It was signed simply, A Faithful servant. I looked the letter over again before glancing back at the Scamp who'd brought it to me. "Who gave you this?" I asked. The scamp widened an eye at me.

"I dunow, common sort of bloke. Of course with gold in my pocket, I might be able to remember more." Grumbling, I handed over fifty septims. "Ah yes that's done it. He was a dark Elf, an Ashlander I think. Didn't tell me his name, just handed me the letter, a thousand gold and told me to go to the Winged Guar in Mournhold and deliver that message to a high Elf answering to the name of Dai-Sona."

"And you walked all the way from Caldera?" I asked suspiciously. Caldera, an Imperial town north of Balmora stood on the Island of Vvardenfell, a near unthinkable distance away from Mournhold. The scamp suddenly looked very smug.

"Creeper of Ghorak manor is the best runner in the business mate." He dusted his shoulder, licked the rim of the tankard before belching loudly. "Sorry, no time for a chin wag, gotta be getting' back now." And with that, he was gone. Rat simply made a high pitched whistling sound as he lay on the bed next to me, obviously not impressed at all by the Scamp's manner.

I must have spent a good fifty minutes reading that letter from top to bottom, trying to figure out more, trying to understand why that Moon and Star symbol meant so much to me. There was a single fact that I could not escape now. My life had changed and the odds of things going back to normal were becoming slimmer with each passing day.

"Calvus." I began as my mercenary peeked his head around the door some time later in the day. "Ask around and see what you can find out about something called, End of Times." The Imperial raised an eyebrow.

"Now I know that name." He continued, coming into the room. "I overhead a conversation between a wood elf and a Dumner. It was quite heated, the two of them arguing the sky down."

"Have you been ease dropping on people?" I asked sceptically. The mercenary shrugged.

"Well, given current situations, I thought I might as well develop the habit." I continued my sceptical look. "Only on a temporary basis of course."

"Of course. So what were they talking about?" Calvus pulled up a chair.

"Well I couldn't actually hear the full conversation, but from what I was able to gather before one of the hit the other, one of them was a member and the other disapproved."

"See what you can find out about them." I looked down again at the note in my hand. "Meanwhile, I have another matter to attend to."

* * *

(R&R) 


	11. The Sixth House Ultimatum

With the attack on the city, I found the Robot Arena understandably, deserted. Few could find the courage to venture out onto the streets after the blood shed that beset the city. The same bloodshed that still gripped Morrowind itself.

It was now an undeniable fact that I was changing and not just physically. As my muscle mass steadily increased, I found my intellect greatly expanded. Intense spells of Magicka that had one been beyond my understanding now seemed simple and I was actually contemplating the possibility of learning a few destruction spells. A good deal of black was beginning to strain my hair as well, an unnatural colour for High Elves.

The light from Trueflame on my back impeding the darkness and I was able to stare across the width of the arena itself. Without people here to maintain the torch light, the underground spectacle was pitch black.

"Lord Neravar." A voice somewhere down in the pit called to me and I blinked, before turning my attention down to the centre of the Arena. Someone, I couldn't see who in the semi-light was standing down there staring up at me. Without hesitation, I jumped over the side of the area to entire the pit self. The fall was long, but I landed on both feet without an injury. I had never been able to jump like that before, if I'd attempted that some days before, I would have done myself serious injury.

The figure standing before was a Dumner, clad in a complete set of Chitin armour. He was quite old, with a fair amount of wrinkles upon his face. A dreadic tattoo marked his left cheek, a tattoo that something told me marked with as an Ashlander. Dumner that refused to conform to imperial rule in any way, shape or form. He wore a golden band around his forehead, with three white feathers sticking out over his raven black hair. A crown made from wickwheet that showed that he was not just any Ashlander, but a Ashkahn. A leader of one of the tribes.

He looked me over, his face betrayed no emotions, before finally he kneeled before me.

"Lord Neravar…forgive me….I had nearly lost faith." I said nothing. Indeed, I could think of little else to say to this greeting. "My name is Sul-Matuul, Chieftain of the Urshilaku Ashlanders." He added, bowing respectfully. "Keepers of the succession, leaders of the Neraverine Cult."

"You have confused me with someone else." It told him, by now quiet annoyed with this whole Neravar thing. He smiled up at me, showing clearly that he knew something I did not. Ashlanders were the ancient, traditional culture of the Dumner. When the Imperials arrived in Morrowind, they were driven out of the few, mild regions in Vvardenfell and into the near inhospitable grey sands around Red mountain. Riddled by the Blight spewing from the summit , these noble and nomadic people had endured the decay of their way of life for centuries.

"Believe me, I do not." He replied with a wide smile, slowly standing up. "We have been waiting for eons for your return my lord. Now you can set everything right." I crossed me arms, looking annoyed.

"Look, I've just about had enough of this." I snapped, finally loosing my patience. "I am not Neravar. I am Dai-Sona."

"That Elf is dying, you are less and less him each moment that passes." I snarled, knowing his words were true but I hated to admit that, even to myself. "Your natural evolution has only been accelerated by your contact with the blade of fire."

"Natural?" I repeated angrily, nearly drawing TrueFlame in rage. "None of this is natural." What happened next was not one of my proudest moments. All the rage, frustration and self loathing I had bottled up over the last few days came spewing out in one paragraphs of curses that I know now the Dumner really did not deserve. I loved being Dai-Sona and being told that at some time soon I would cease to be him, slowly becoming someone else was more than I could stand. Sul took the abuse with gentle humour and patiently waited until I had finished before he even dared to speak.

"I realize you must be confused, it was said you would not retain much of your memory during the re-birth. Please forgive me for being direct, and if I seem so, pushy in my manner but I have very little time here." Sul reached inside his chest plate and withdrew a small piece of parchment which he quickly handed over. Drawn in a fine ink was a map of the northern shore of Vvardenfell, close to the Shegorath Region. Some mountainous area just west of the Grazelands was marked with an **'X'. **"You must travel here at once." The Dumner directed, pointing to the X. "If you wish to know the truth, go here, and all will be…" Before he could finish his sentence there was a loud shriek, out of the darkness came a whirling shape I only managed to see in time to raise TrueFlame defensively. Startled, Sul stumbled backwards a few steps as the rotting corpse that had thrown itself at me, a Deadric Claymore in each hand.

"Give me my band…" He screeched, swinging it's entire body around several times in an attempt to slice my across the middle. Each attempt I managed to block before swinging Trueflame around, it's fiery light illuminating my attack. It was him again, the guardian of the Mazed Band. Barlizar, the mage of the pervious era who had purposely turned himself into a Lich to safeguard his own creation, the Mazed band. An artefact I had stolen from him and given to the goddess. "I want it back! Hand it over!" He snarled at me, a skeletal hand lashing out taking hold of my by the neck.

"I don't have it." I replied, before Trueflame slashed him across the arm, burning his decaying flesh, forcing him to let go.

"LIAR!!" He screamed in rage, leaping through the air pinning me to the ground. I kicked him of before flipped upwards, my flaming sword already in hand. Barlizar rebounded off the floor and came hurtling back at me, both Dreadric claymores tight in his grasp.

We exchanged blow after blow and through utter rage the Lich creator managed to match the swings of Trueflame and eventually sourced a slash aross my chest, leaving a long bloody gash in the muscle, shattering my glass cuirass. I collapsed to my knees, blood seeping through my fingers as he clutched my free hand to my chest.

"Lord Neravar!" Sul gasped, rushing to my side, his eyes widening at the pool of blood on the floor before me, the shards of my glass armour scattered around it.

"Neravar…." Balizar began, looking confused. "You lie, Neravar was killed eons ago." He held one of his blades against Sul's throat, forcing him to back away from me. "Don't tell me you believe that nonsense about the Neravarine?"

"I am the head of the Neravarine cult." Sul began standing up despite the Deadric sword pointed directly at him, defiance blaring across his face "I have followed signs from the Deadra prince Azura to this High Elf, who I believe to be our ancient hero re-incarnated. See, he wielded the sword of the Indorial. None but it's true master may use it without being burned by the flames." Baliazar's eyes latched onto the burning Trueflame on the floor besides me and recoiled like a snake who'd just had it's tail beaten.

His blank eyes betrayed his intense emotion as he finally recognised the sword, hissing loudly the familiarly of the flames coiling around the blade began scorching his mind. With a loud clatter he dropped both his swords, his bony hands twitching in dismay. The undeniable proof of my spiritual heritage burning before him. "Begone!" Sul exclaimed, holding out his hands with the burning white embers of a spell forming between his fingers. Barlizar easily managed to slip around the frost attack before retreating back across the arena floor, still hissing.

Acting on a deep routed instinct, I used what strength I had to take up Trueflame; holding it to my wound, the fire leaping from the blade to my flesh, forcing it closer, the blood retracting back into my body. There was a brief moment of pain, before the healing progress was completed and I was restored .

"Where is my band?" Barlizar demanded as I straightened up, patting my chest to ensure myself that my wound had healed. It seemed Trueflame had other powers besides it's destructive energies.

"I don't have it; the goddess does."

"You utter fool!" The lich snapped at me, rage seeping into his eyes; his creation now well beyond his reach. "You gave it to the goddess of the Tribunal? Now the horror it will unless on the world will be entirely your fault. All of Nirn will die!" Before I could get the chance to ask him what he meant, it happened.

The air groaned as an intervention spell ended around us and manifesting out of a teleport magic came some of the most horrific creatures I have ever had the misfortune of seeing. Blight infected monsters from the heights and depths of Red Mountain.

They had all once been Dumner once, but suggestive powers had been transferred on the Blight winds, transforming them into the hideous monsters that began surrounding the three of them in a tight circle. Ranging from Ash Slaves to Ash Vampires, Dagoth Ur's minions were backed up by hordes of Fabricants, snapping and snarling at us like deranged dogs but held back by some ever present force I could sense in the air.

In an instant, The two Deadric claymores were back in Barlizar's hands,his eyes glowing bright red.

"Hail Lord Neravar." One of the mutated beings began, advancing forward from the hordes. It appeared to be mostly Dumner, only it had a long truck protruding from where it's eyes shoulder be. Clad in nothing by a pale white robe, it stood at least as tall as I was. "I am General Dagoth Gares, leader of the Sixth House armies in Southern Morrowind. Our lord said we would find you here." Without invitation, another flash of unfamiliar images forced their way into my head; but unlike the others, these were so chaotic and random I couldn't make out anything more distinctive than a ring with a moon and star symbol engraved on it. "We bring you a message." He reached inside his robe and withdrew a rolled up piece of paper, a series of writing in what looked like red ink sprawled across it. "Our Lord of Red Mountain Dagoth Ur sends his best regards to this old brother in arms." Gently the paper lifted from his hand, airborne by some spell and drifted over the distance between us. As it landed in my free hand I could see straight away that whatever it was written in; it _wasn't_ red ink. Written in plain Tamreilic was…

Lord Indorial Neravar, beloved clan brother and friend.

The time of liberation had come and the ancient glory you were denied will once again be within your grasp. Our allies are in position and the filth that covert our land are divided. We await only your participation to begin our full scale attack.

Come, climb Red Mountain and watch as our ancient home land is freed and restored to it's former glory. The Sixth House has risen, and I am more than capable of leading it to victory.

Lord Voyrn Dagoth Ur.

I grimaced, that blame sending a shockwave of jumbled images across my mind again. I shook my head, trying to clear it.

"We await your answer Indorial." Dagoth Gares began after a moment of tense silence, a hint of annoyance in his voice. "Our Lord does not like to be kept waiting." In response, the circle around us began to tighten.

"If I perish here, it will be an honour to die by your side my Lord." Sul stated, drawing a silver dagger from his armour. He was old and not very well armed. If there was going to be a fight, then he WOULD die.

"I hope your happy." Barlizar sneered, keeping his back to the two of us, his gaze kept locked on the Ash Vampires beginning to encircle us. "This horror could have been avoided had it not been for you. I don't know how, but the Mazed Band has made it's way into the hands of Dagoth." I looked back over my shoulder towards him with a matching glare. "The name of Indorial Neravar or Dai Sona of Summerset Isle will be cursed for Generations to come."


	12. The final choice of DaiSona

(sorry this took so long to update.)

* * *

"We are still waiting." Gares stated, the hostile feeling in the air reaching near cataclysmic proportions. "Friend or traitor, take your pick." The crowd of Sixth House servants and Fabricants howled around us, held back only by Gares; their ring leader. If he gave the word, the entire hoard would descend down upon the three of us. There was dozens of them, more than enough to overwhelm us. "Either way, Morrowind will be free."

"What fates befalls us and the rest of Tamriel is now entirely your fault." Barlizar growled at me, his red eyes burning with frustration. "This was the horror I anticipated after I created the Mazed Band. I cursed myself with the Lich infection to prevent this and for centuries I suffered, and then you came along and made it all for nothing in five minutes."

"I didn't want this to happen." Was my reply as I held Trueflame up, it's burning fire highlighting my face.

"You think that made any difference?" The undead warriors snapped, turning back to the multitude of Sixth House monsters closed the circle around us.

"There is no time for discord." Sul reminded the both of us. "There will be plenty of opportunity to settle this later." This was maddening. Torn between two lives, I found myself with no clear direction. All I could feel was my grip on Trueflames hilt. Dai-Sona of summerset isle was no supposed to be here, fighting monsters. He was a rouge, an elf who had been known to waylay travellers from time to time and steal their gold. A thief, but an honest thief who left his victims with a single weapon as compensation He belonged to the long, unending horizons. Here, in this city, in this life he was not meant to be.

And yet here I was all the same.

Screeching, Barlizar shot forward with in-human speed sinking the tip of each Deadric claymore into the heart of an Ash Slave, tearing it open in a thick spray of grey powder. An fabricant to his side lunged at the undead warrior, to side stepped before bringing the sword in his right hand down sharply, severing it's head with out clean swipe. Gares looked in his direction and raised his hand, an intense bolt of telekinesis magicka lancing through the air before smashing into Barlizar, casting him backwards towards the two of us.

I did nothing as the un-dead warrior lay before us, struggling to get up. That single bolt had weakened him intensely. I wanted to move to help but I was torn between two sides, keeping me pinned in place.

Sul tried to throw a magical shield around us himself but Gares own potent magicka simply stripped the air of the defence with ease and blasted the old man with a powerful bolt of frost magic. Sul was thrown violently backwards some of his chiten armour flying up into the air and using one hand, I caught him before he hit the ground. Being old, he had taken the blow far harder than a young man would have. A thin trail of blood was oozing out the side of his mouth.

"It was the honour of a life time to stand besides you my lord." He coughed. "No other Ashkhan before me has had the privilege Lord Neravar." The magic and his age had nearly killed him. If he didn't get help soon, it might still well do.

"I'm not Neravar." I managed to say, my eyes unexpectedly filling with tears. Tears of sadness, of doubt and uncertainty.

"You have to know who you are." Sul managed to say, sinking to the ground next to Barlizar. "Dai-Sona or Neravar. Your choice must be made."

In that instant I realized what I had arrived at. Something inside, something undeniable in it's source told me to give an answer to the question being asked of me. I had to make a choice as to which way I went. Do I become the dark warrior I saw in my dreams, coated in bladed armour or the knight armed with TrueFlame. Light or darkness? Which one? No, I couldn't make that choice. I was still Dai-Sona, the high elf. He was not supposed to make this decision.

There was something missed, some piece of information I was missing. I needed more time. But I had none. Events both in reality in my mind was blurring wildly out of control. I had never had any control! Everything was a mad whirl around me, chaos; uncontrollable chaos. Dai-Sona or Indoril Neravar, High Elf or Chimmer, rouge or holy warrior? I had to choose. But I wasn't ready! I needed more time.

Born on a certain day to uncertain parents, an outlander and a pure blood in one; the paths of a spilt destiny laying before me. In that instant, nothing mattered then and there but that one choice. The need or duty, none of that meant a thing. This my decision, and mine alone. I had to decide who I was.

Still, whatever path I might choose would end up with someone dying. The only question was, who to let go? The decision had to be made.

I could not be two people, one had to go. Dai-Sona, the high Eleven Rouge. A dashing patron of the ladies who drank too much Flin. An adventurer with a passion for life. He stood watching the horizon wondering what lay on the far side. He had taken me across the length and width of Vvardnefell. Through him I had fought bandits, Blight inflicted monsters, stolen from Telvanni nobility, escaped an imperial prison with nothing but a fork and finally, brought me here to the ancient capital of Morrowind where I began to change.

Lord Indoril Neravar, the ancient tribal chief and king of the Chimmer. A man bound b honour and duty and set steadfast on a task he had been deprived of completing in his own lifetime. A task that had to be carried out, not just for Morrowind's sake, but for all of Tamriel.

It was then I knew what I had to do. Dai-Sona had carried me here because that had been his purpose. To train me in the harsh lands of Vvardenfell, to prepare me to take on my true identity. To ultimately lead me to his one choice.

It was time to let him go.

Whatever remained of the rouge was absorbed by the fires of Trueflame and my eyes snapped open, my body transformed finally to it's final stage. Like the High Elves, I had maintained my golden skin, but now I had the physique of a Dumner. My flowing white had had burned jet black and reached down behind my waist, where before it had been flapping about my shoulders. The tattoos had had slowly been spreading over my arms had finally stopped, leaving elaborate Deadric symbols all over my body and the left hand side of my face. Gone was the doubt, the anxiousness of Dai-Sona. Burned in the fire, the same fire used to forge me anew.

The new writer of this tale greats those who have read thus far. My name is Indoril Neravar.

"My lord…." Sul began in awe, staring up at me in amazement. I was now the figure of prophecy he had been raised to revere and respect down to the last detail. Barlizar hissed and picked himself up into a kneeling position, looking stunned as the fires of the blade seemed to encircle my entire body.

Clearly stunned, Gares looked on at this new form in quiet awe. His forces showed similar reactions, as I looked them over as if with new eyes. Where once I had seen insane monsters, now I saw cursed men; driven insane by a power that should have remained undisturbed. Even Gares I could now see had once been a normal Dark Elf, but had basked for far too long in the dreams of Dagoth Ur. Now, I could easily see the choice between the darkness and the light.

"The answer is no." I, Neravar, now utterly sure of who I was and what I needed to do, told the servant of Red Mountain. Gares hissed loudly through his trunk, his mouth set in a frown. "Take the message back to the pits of Red Mountain and tell my old friend he may expect no alliance from me." Slowly, I raised the flaming sword towards them.

Gares however did not look to impressed, in fact he looked utterly furious.

"Those who are not with Red Mountain, stand against it!" The hoards hissed and snarled like rapid dogs. "There is too much at stake to allow resistance. Prepare to die!"


	13. The rise of the Lost House

The servants of red mountain were mostly animated dust forged from the fires of the volcano. Those sleepers who had risen were little more then dust themselves. Their true souls screamed at me from behind their façade, pleading with me to give them peace, to set him free. Their nightmare was eternal, they could not wake up.

These Fabricants that accompanied their forces had no thoughts. One they had been living creatures, but now they were little more than machines; programmed creations of some technology. No souls, no hearts, not even animalistic instinct. The only thing that existed in their minds were the orders give by their masters.

Slowly, I raised Trueflame and now in the hands of it's master the fire blazed brighter than ever, the flames lancing down my arm. The light from the fire bathed the entire arena in illumination, forcing the charging monstrosities to cover their eyes. The light was so intense, even Barlizar who lay injured at my feet was forced to look away. Now they were distracted, I brought the sword down level with my waist before charging, slashing at staggering monsters as I ran;. Each swipe engulfing them in fire, reducing them to charred ashes in moments; freeing the trapped souls. Bolts of magic began hurling through the energy towards me and I double stepped avoiding a head on collision before arching my arm back and firing my own fire ball spell forward. The magicka found it's target and an ascended Sleep was thrown backwards against the side of the arena.

Dagoth Gares screamed and came flying at me, armed with one of the Deadric Claymore's Barlizar had brought. Swinging at me from above, I stopped his blow with Trueflames edge before kicking him aside. Digging his heals into the ground, he shortly came to a stop. His trunk hissed loudly at me.

"You are nothing but a puppet of the false gods." He snarled at me, clenching both hands around the hilt of his sword. "Ours is the true cause of Morrowind. Those who stand against us are an enemy of the Dumner race! Now die enemy of Lord Dagoth!" Our blades clashed again and again, each time a power struggle took place. Dagoth Ur had bestowed this servant with a tremendous amount of his own power, making him my equal in skill. Both in swordsmanship and his magicka. He seemed able to deflect any spell I tossed at him and then launch a counter attack.

Darting to the side, the ash servant narrowly avoided a burning slash before jabbing the point of his sword forward. Kicking him backwards, I charged around his side tryign to cut him across the side. He blocked my swing before trying to toss a bolt of magic at point blank range at me.

At the last second, a dark shape came flying out of the chaos and ran the servant of Red Mountain through with a second claymore. Barlizar took his remaining weapon in both hands and twisted it upwards through the Ash Servants body, trying to cut right through his heart. Dust and ash was leaking out of the wound instead of blood.

Growling, Gares pointed his hand directly at the ancient Lich and fired a bolt of lighting magicka, a potent spell at that. Catching the full length of it, Barlizar screamed. But unfortunately for the Ash servant, he still held onto his sword an the blade acted like a conductor; the electricity passing through it and straight back into it's castor; giving him all the negative effects as well.

The fire of the sword coming to life once more, I smashed at Gares' arm scoring a direct hit; his limb severing itself from the body and landing with a dull thud on the floor; dissipating into dust as soon as it hit.

Screeching, Gares staggering backwards, more ash falling from the jagged stump attached to his torso. Barlizar wrenched himself free, before collapsing to his knees; using his weapon to support his weight.

Darting behind the Ash Servant, I wasted no words; instead I simply thrust the tip of Trueflame through his body, it's fire igniting his entire form. The Sleeper screamed as the fire burned his flesh, blackening his skin. The fire of the sword was not that of heat, but of purify flames. Bit by bit, they were destroying the corruption of the Red Mountain. His body was slowly crumbling before me. Too much of him had been consumed by the madness of Dagoth Ur to be saved.

But very quickly the screams turned to fits of insane an uncontrollable laugher. With a sickening crack, his entire head turned around backwards to face me. His face, or rather what as left of it set in a sickening grin. "Even as my Master wills, you will come to him as his flesh and of his flesh!" With that, his body broke down into tiny pieces that scattered into the air his laughter still echoing with them, Before I could stop myself, I breathed them him. The effect was almost instantaneous.

Pain unlike anything I'd ever experience fell over me. My skin began to boil and by sight whirled sickeningly. Unable to find the strength to keep myself on my feet, I collapsed to the floor; Trueflame falling from my side.

"Lord Neravar!" Sul cried, despite his injury hurrying to my side. Barlizar heaved himself back to his feet, before sheathing his weapon across his back. Turning, he looked over towards where Gares had dropped the Deadric Claymore he took from him. Reaching out with an outstretched hand, he retracted back to him with a telekinesis spell.

He watched as I lay on the ground, my golden skin slowly being overtaken by the unstoppable march of the Corpus disease crossing over my body. All the while outside the Robot Arena, the already terrified people of Mournhold looked up towards the skies as they began to darken. With intense fear, they watched as the heavens turned blood red and Ash storms only found in Vvardenfell itself began howling around them.

With howls that echoed through the streets, monsters, Sleepers, Ash Servants began pouring out of the wood work all over Morrowind; attacking the already exhausted Imperial Garrison troops. The could be no denying it now. The Sixth House, the long forgotten faction of the Dumner had returned and Dagoth ur; the devil himself was emerging from the pits of Red Mountain.

* * *

-

Neravar paused, the tip of his quill just above the parchment. The Chimer hesitated before retracting his writing tool and leaning back in his chair. The Dumner Amila stood beside him. Up until now she had been intently engrossed in the story he had been telling and looked confused that he had stopped.

"What's wrong?" She asked, putting a hand on his far shoulder. As if looking for inspiration, Neravar looked up towards the display on the wall in front of his desk. Laid in an 'X' shape with a shield in the middle were the two elemental blades, Hopesfire and Trueflame; their fires burning in harmoniously unity. Then he golden skinned general shook his head and leaned on the arm rest of his chair.

"There's a gap." He began thoughtfully.

"A gap?" Amila repeated, before glancing over his work herself. "What gap?"

"Corpus disease had been bed ridden for days." He explained. "And a lot of important stuff happened in that time that I was not there for." Amila's expression turned to a flat one.

"So, you know what happened; write it in." She began. Neravar shook his head again.

"I told the story from the first person perspective. It wouldn't work if I suddenly start writing it from someone else's point of view." He sighed irritably. "Maybe I should just shelf it for now. I was never that good a story teller anyway." he made a move to wrap up the parchment. Amila slapped his hand down.

"Oh no you don't!" She proclaimed, looking him directly in the face. "You started this thing, now you finish it."

"Well, perhaps you'd like to fill in the final gaps." Indorial invited, offering her the quill.

"Fine…I will." Amila snapped, pushing him out of the way and got into the chair herself. "Now let a real storyteller let you show it's done!"


End file.
